University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


(7 


OF 


ORIGINAL   POEMS 


BY 

ELIJAH  RUSSELL  MORSE. 


DILLON,  MONTANA, 
1894- 


P.    F.    PETTIBONE    &    CO.,    PRINTERS,   CHICAGO. 


dedication. 


THIS    LITTLE    BOOK 
1    DEDICATE 

TO 
MY    CHILDREN. 


Contents. 


(Iiid  Everywhere 9 

Can  We  Forget  Our  Patriot  Dead  ?  .     .     .  10 

Return  of  May, 12 

Man  is  Full  of  Frailty 13 

Slavery, 14 

MY  Native  Land, 15 

O,  My  Country 16 

Return  of  Spring, IT 

The  Boys  in  Blue 19 

Genius "-'<> 

Can  We  Forget? 21 

Green  Mountain  State, 22 

Sweet  Summer,  Thou  Art  Gone,  ....  23 

Autumn 24 

My  Childhood's  Home 25 

Niagara, 27 

Winter,  1843-44, 28 

Haste,  Thou  Sinner, 29 

Hope 30 

Acrostic      Minnie  Evelyn  Morse,      ...  31 

The  Prayer  for  Life 3-.' 

Hymn  from  the  g6th  Psalm, 34 

Life  is  Short, 3T> 

The  Tolling  Bell 3<> 

Song  for  Winter, 37 

The  Name  of  Morse 38 

Funeral  Hymn, 39 

From  Earth  I  Soared  Away, -40 

The  Bobolink,       12 

Scraps 43 

Xack  and  1 44 

Snow, 45 

Mourn 46 

Reliance  on  Heaven, 47 

Flowers, 48 

Clems 49 

Almost  Eight,       -49 

Doubt  and  Fear,       ,     .    .    .  50 

Return  of  May,  1844 :>2 

Repeal, 53 

The  New  Year,     ....  54 


.November, 

Joy  and  Sadness 

My  Father  and  Mother 

Could  We  But  Know 

Memorial  Hymn.— Bedeck  Their  Graves, 

Death 

Waiting  for  the  Rain, 

A  Hymn  of  Praise  and  fnvocation,   .    .    . 

Illmois 

Stern  Winter  Reigns 

Strains  Divine 

May 

Speak  Kindly,       

Tears 

The  Poor 

All  Nature  Sings, 

A  Sister's  Dying  Farewell 

Acrostic.—  Orpha  Shipman, 

Spring 

Is  There  a  Day  Without  a  Morn,      .    .    . 
There's  Beauty  but  it  Fades  Away,      .    . 

Spring  Appears 

Grant,  . 


Campaign  Song, 

Acrostic. —Susan  C.  Lowell,      .     .     .     . 

Meter, 

June  Training  Day 

Childhood, 

For  Adam's  Race, 

Yes,  in  Retirement  and  Alone,      .    .    . 
Acrostic.— Betsy  Jane  Lowell,      .    .    . 

My  Mountain  Home  Song 

Where  Shall  the  Poet  Find  a  Theme?  . 

Our  Life  a  Dream 

Extracts, 

The  Cold,  Chill  Hand  of  Death,  .     .     . 

Ogle  County  in  Rhyme, 

The  Maiden's  Choice,       

It  is  a  Shame, 

The  Heavens  Thy  Power  Proclaim, 
Come,  Blooming  Health 


ffl 
Bfl 

81 
84 


88 
90 
HI 
1*2 
08 
9-4 

95 
96 
97 
B8 
100 

102 

103 
104 


The  Dying  Christian 

A  Vermont  Snow  Storm,       

Youth, 

To  the  Moon, 

Acrostic. —  Orra  Laporte, 

The  Parting  Hour,    .    . ' 

Take  the  Bible  as  Your  Guide.     .    .    . 
Memorial   Hymn.  — O,  Lightly,   Softly 

Tread 

On  the  Death  of  Torrey 

A  Light  is  on  the  Mountains 

Calvary 

Mount  Pulaski 

They  Will  not  Let  Them  Go,  .... 
A  Brighter  Day  is  Dawning,     .... 

Old  Winter  is  Here 

O.  Thou  Almighty  King 

(Jems 

Hope 

Pity 

We  All  are  Frail 

My  Soul  is  Longing  for  its  Rest,       .    . 

Columbia 

The  Past 

The  Land  of  Rest, 

Centennial  Hymn, 

The  Present, 

The  Dead, 

Time  Rolls  On 

Ten  O'clock  is  Saying, 

Pay  the  Printer 

Acrostic.-  Laura  Ann  Thomas,   .     .    . 

Thanksgiving  Day 

'Tis  Noon 

The  Sea  of  Life.    . 


106       Reverie, 151 

108  Welcome  to  Jennie  Lind, 152 

109  The  Future, 153 

110  Acrostic.—  Sarah  C.  Havena 154 

112  Campaign  Song, 155 

113  Life  is  a  Struggle 156 

114  After  the  Storm, 156 

Acrostic.-  Ann  M.  Littlerield 1." 

115  The  Silent  Land, 158 

116  Acrostic.— Jerusha  Hill  Thomas.       .     .    .  159 
118        Summer 160 

120  The  Ashtabula  Horror 161 

121  The  Melancholy  Smile 162 

122  Winter, 163 

123  The  Cuckoo 164 

125  The  Maiden's  Prayer 166 

126  Acrostic.-    Mary  Jane  Thomas 167 

127  Welcome  to  Summer, 168 

127  Go  West 170 

128  How  Happy  is  the  Heavenly  Throng,        .  171 
130  Then  When  Coldness  Clogs  This  Clay,    .  172 

132  Turn  Now  to  God 173 

133  Acrostic.— William  Cullen  Warner,       .    .  174 

135  The  Burial  Ground 175 

136  A  Hymn  of  Praise, 1W 

137  Spring  Again 180 

140  Acrostic.— Oscar  E.  Morse 180 

141  May  Day 181 

142  Melancholy  Thoughts, 182 

143  Sabbath  Morn, 183 

144  Can  We  Forget  the  Men  of  Old,    ....  184 

145  The  Joys  of  Earth 185 

146  Acrostic.— Beauty, 186 

149       O,  Let  Me  Rest 187 

150 


Salutatory. 

When  first  to  myself,  by  one  of  our  family,  it  was  pro 
posed  to  have  my  Poems  published  in  pamphlet  or  book 
form,  I  was  very  much  pleased  with  the  idea,  as  I  had 
been  thinking  for  years.,  who  or  what  person.,or  by  what 
agency  my  productions  in  verse  would  be  looked  up  and 
brought  together,  looked  up  and  brought  to  lightr  so 

£»^C^»-C-       (/l^fl-'t 

scattered    and   dilapidated^  many  ^>f  them   forty  and  fifty 

v  oL  o  "  *"- 

years  of  age,  and  from  that  yto  the  present  time. 

Quite  a  good  many  of  the  older  ones  have  been  pub 
lished.,  and  more  or  less  of  them  have  been  lostj;  and 
some  I  have  recalled  by  most  pertinacious  thinking,  and 
thus  have  brought  them  back  to  memory,  from  oblivion, 
by  a  word  or  a  line,  and  thus  giving  an  index  to  the  piece 
or  title. 

While  looking  up,  revising,,  and  copying  the  old.,  I 
have  composed  and  added  quite  a  number  of  new  ones^, 
which  I  hope  and  trust, will  be  appreciated  by  my  children 
as  a  legacy  of  some  worth,  at  least,  from  one  of  Three 
Score  Years  and  Ten. 

And  may  a  perusal  of  these  productions  of  my 
thoughts  and  pen  inspire  my  children.,  and  children's 
children j— inspire  them  with  love  of  Country,  Freedom, 
Father,  Mother,  and  of  Nature's  God. 

ELIJAH  RUSSELL  MORSE. 


(Sofc  Everywhere. 

Where  dwelleth  God  ?     O,  everywhere, 

Among'  the  creatures  of  His  care. 
In  every  place,  in  every  spot. 

We  cannot  go  where  He  is  not. 

In  every  beam  that  morning  throws,- 

In  every  star  that  brightly  glows,- 
In  every  drop  of  glittering  dew, 

In  every  rainbow's  blended  hue. 

In  every  fair  and  fragile  flower, 

We  see  displayed  His  sovereign  power. 

O,  everywhere  His  works  are  seen; 

In  the  grass  that  springs,  so  bright  and  green. 

In  every  leaf,  in  every  blade, 

In  every  thing  which  God  hath  made, 

In  sparkling  rills,  in  ocean's  foamy 
And  in  the  sky's  resplendent  dome. 

In  light-winged  clouds,  of  angel  form; 

And  in  the  lightning,  in  the  storm. 
In  high  and  low>  in  great  and  small; 

In  man  the  noblest  of  them  all: 

His  radiance  fills,  enthroned  on  high, 
Our  earth,  and  worlds  beyond  the  sky. 

Nor  thought  can  soar,  nor  tongue  can  tell, 
Where  God  in  spirit,  doth  not  dwell! 


Can  Me  Forget  ©ur  patriot  Dcab? 

Can  we  forget  our  patriot  dead, 

Who  for  their  home  and  country  died; 

Our  fallen  ones,  who  for  us  bled> — 
The  battle -scarredj-'who  Death  defied? 

Can  we  forget  the  April  morn  , 

When  Sumpter,  pierced^and  bleeding  fell, 
Our  flag  struck  down,  and  soiled,  and  torn, 

By  rebel  hands,-with  shot  and  shell? 

Can  we  forget  the  wild  alarm,— • 

When  tidings  like  the  lightning  flew 

Along  the  wiresr —  The  call  to  ann,^— 
And  wildest  notes  the  trumpets  blew? 

Can  we  forget  the  parting  tear; 

The  father,  mother,  brother,  son  ? 
Can  we  forget  to  freedom  dear, 

Their  crown  of  glory  won  ? 

Can  we  forget  our  Lincoln's  fall  ? 

Our  greatest,  noblest  martyr  slain  ; 
The  darkest  crime,  foulest  of  all, 

That  can  a  Nation's  records  stain  ? 

Shall  we  forget  to  come  each  year, 

With  reverent  hearts,  our  tribute  bring, 

And  shed  for  them  the  pensive  tear, 

And  strew  the  sweetest  flowers  of  Spring, 


iO 


ibove  their  honored,  sacred  dust/- 

While  thoughts  will  wander  far  awayr 
To  God  we  yield  the  sacred  trusty- 
Of  guarding  well  their  moldering  clay, 

Ot  those  who  sleep  in  unknown  graves,  — 
Who  fell  in  battle's  fiercest  strife: 

O'er  them  blest  Freedom's  banner  waves,- 
Who  died  to  save  the  Nation's  life. 

As  long  as  sacred  love  can  burn, 
Within  an  aching  human  breast, 

So  shall  our  hearts  towards  them  yearn, 
Our  martyred  heroes  now  at  rest.f 


1 1 


IRcturn  of 

We  welcome  thee* returning  May, 
Thou  lovely  daughter  of  the  Spring  ; 

We  welcome  thee  this  holiday, 

For  thou  dost  joy  and  gladness  bring. 

Blest  health  is  on  thy  blooming  cheek, 
And  youth  and  beauty  in  thine  eyes; 

Ah/ lovely  maiden,  mild  and  meek, 
Thou  art  a  child  of  Paradise. 

And  thou  hast  come,  our  earth  to  bless 
With  fairy  breeze,  refreshing  showers  ; 

With  all  thy  beauties  numberless, 
To  beautify  this  earth  of  ours. 

Sweet  music  breathes  on  every  gale, 
Creation's  chorus  joins  the  lay  ; 

All  welcome  thee,  and  gladly  hail 
Again  thy.  smiles,  returning  May. 


flDan  is  jfull  of  jfrailty. 

Man  is  full  of  frailty, 

God  is  full  of  power  ; 
His  kingdom  lasts  forever, 

Man's  only  for  an  hour. 

Man  stands  pale  and  trembling, 

When  man  he  only  sees; 
But  God,  when  storms  o'erwhelming 

Rage,  commands  and  all  is  peace. 

Man  glories  for  a  while, 

But  soon  his  joy  is  fled ; 
Then  sorrow  shades  a  smile, 

And  sinks  him  'mong  the  dead. 

O,  then  while  frail  is  man, 

His  glory  but  an  hour; 
Life  measured  by  a  span; 

Arid  strengthless  is  his  power. 

In  God  let  us  confide, 

Whose  glory,  strength  and  power, 
While  on  life's  stormy  tide, 

To  us  will  be  a  tower,— 

A  tower  whose  bulwarks  are  of  old, 
Whose  walls  are  built  on  high  ; 

A  strong  defense,  a  mighty  hold, 
Encircling  earth  and  sky. 

13 


In  Him  we  sure  will  trust, 

His  arm  is  strong  to  save; 
And  though  we  moulder  back  to  dust, 

He'll  rescue  from  the  grave. 


Slavery. 

Woej  the  land  whose  soil  is  cursed 
With  Slavery's  unrelenting  hand; 

Tho'  seem  it  prosperous  at  first, 
Woe  is  reserved  for  such  a  land/ 

Though  sweat  and  toil,  and  blood  and  tears, 
The  harden'd  Lord  may  yet  devour^ 

He  cannot  stay  the  storm  of  years> 

Gathering  to  crush  Oppression's  power/ 

Woe,  woe,  to  those  who  lend  their  aid, 
And  help  to  bind  the  galling  chain ; 

They  write  their  name  with  human  blood  y- 
Themselves  and  country  wear  the  stain1.* 

Lo  !   Generations,  yet  unborn, 

Shall  curse  them  for  their  sinful  deed ; 

Shall  heap  on  them  a  world  of  scorn, 

^ 

When  Freedom  shall  no  longer  bleed.. 


IKative  Xanfc. 

Again  among  the  hills  I  stand, 
Mills  of  my  own  dear  native  land, 

Where  mountain  peaks  in  grandeur  rise. 
I  tread  once  more,  where  childhood,  sweet, 
Prattled  and  played  with  wandering  feetj— 

Ye  greet  again  my  longing  eyes./ 

Oj  youth  and  age,  how  soon  they  pass,— 
'Tis  like  the  mist,  or  withering  grass;-— 

They  come  and  go^  they  pass  away; 
Or  like  the  verdant  hills  that  bloom, 
They  blossom,  flourish,,  find  a  tomb* 

And  mingle  with  their  mother  clay. 

'Tis  sad,  yet  sweet, — unbidden  tears? 
Will  start,  to  think  of  other  years, 

Of  joys,  and  sorrows,— lot  of  all. 
I  hear  the  brooklet's  merry  flow, 
The  cricket's  chirp  of  long  ago, 

And  voices  from  the  woodlands  call* 

Adieu, — the  autumn's  glittering  sheen 
Has  donned  its  robe  of  changing  green  ; 

Reflected  in  the  lake  below: 
Whose  placid  waters  on  its  breast, 
Lie  quiet  as  a  babe  at  rest, 

Or,  river's  still,  majestic  flow. 

15 


Old  age  will  come,  and  stern  decay; 
But  O,  thy  hills  pass  not  away. 

The  mountains  too,  O^they  shall  stand, 
Like  truth  eternal  they  shall  be. 
Sadly  I  turn  away  from  thee,— 

Farewell,  my  own  dear  native  land.  / 

In  my  old  home,  Sept.  22,  1876. 


Country. 

O,  my  country,  'tis  oft  I  think  of  Thee; 
And  thinking,  wish  that  Thou  wert  truly  free.' 
Wish  Thou  wert  free  from  Slavery's  galling  chain, 
So  that  Thy  glory  be  not  found  in  vain.? 

My  country,  wake!     Shake  off  the  gloom  of  years; 
Set  millions  free,  and  stay  their  bitter  tears. 
Let  human  rights  now  move  thy  inmost  soul, 
And  love  of  man  thy  actions  all  control. f 

Shake  off  the  sin  which  binds  a  curse  on  Thee; 
My  country  wake,  and  be  Thou  truly  free. 
Heaven  cries  aloud,  put  off  a  Nation's  shame, 
Let  Freedom  live,  as  well  as  have  a  name.  - 


IReturn  of  Spring. 

I  am  with  you,  I  am  with  you, 

Though  for  me  you've  waited  long; 
Now  most  joyfully  I  greet  you, 

With  my  bright  and  happy  throng. 
For  I've  broke  the  icy  fetters 

Of  old  Winter's  dreary  reign, 
And  the  snow-wreaths  I  have  wasted 

From  the  valley,  hill  and  plain. 

I  have  wandered  o'er  the  mountains, 

And  the  merry  rills  are  free; 
And  again  the  sparkling  fountains 

In  the  sunlight  welcome  me. 
Lo,  all  nature  is  awaking 

From  her  long  and  dreary  sleep, 
As  she  bids  me  to  be  joyful, 

,And  no  more  in  silence  weep. 

Loud  her  anthem  now  is  swelling, 

And  it  fills  the  balmy  air; 
On  the  wings  of  love  'tis  wafted, 

While  she  kneels  to  God  in  prayer. 
And  she  smiles  to  meet  her  loved  ones, 

Whom  she  counted  but  as  slain  ; 
And  her  great  heart's  nobly  beating 

At  the  sound  of  my  dear  name. 


'7 


I  have  breathed  upon  the  forests, 

As  I  did  in  days  of  yore  ; 
I  have  come  with  gentle  showers, 

And  old  earth  is  young  once  more. 
And  the  grass  is  greenly  springing, 

And  the  flowers  awake  from  death, 
As  with  gentle  hand  I  touch  them, 

Kiss  them  with  my  balmy  breath. 

Wake  then  Mortal,  wake  from  sadness, 

Let  thy  heart  with  nature  bloom ; 
Swell  the  song  of  joy  and  gladness, 

Hope  for  me  beyond  the  tomb. 
When  life's  struggle  all  is  over, 

And  its  wintry  storms  are  past, 
O,  then  meet  me,  joyous  greet  me, 

Where  I  shall  forever  last. ' 


18 


Gbe  Bops  in  Blue. 

Brave  boys  in  blue,  to  freedom  true, 

Your  cause  is  just  and  holy; 
Go  marching  on,  brave  boys  in  blue, 

Till  the  final  victory,  f 

CHORUS. 

Three  cheers,  hof  for  the  boys  in  blue,  O^ 
Three  cheers  for  the  soldier  boys  in  blue.; 

When  Sumpter  spoke,  'mid  flame  and  smoke, 

And  cannon's  awful  thunder 4 
It  shook  the  land,,  on  every  handj 

With  horror  and  with  wonder.! 

CHORUS. 

It  told  the  North,  the  trait'rous  South 

Had  sounded  war's  loud  rattle, 
In  wild  alarm  it  bade  it  arm, 

And  fight  the  mighty  battle. ? 

CHORUS. 

Then  our  boys  in  blue,  indignant  flew 
From  mountain,  hill  and  valley ; 

From  prairies,  wide  to  ocean's  tide, 
Around  the  flag  to  rally,  f 

CHORUS. 

19 


The  good  old  flag,  the  Union  flag, 
By  traitor  hands  made  gory; 

They  seized  it  then,  those  patriot  men, 
And  bore  it  on  to  glory.,* 


CHORUS. 


Till  Treason's  breath,  is  lost  in  death, 
Go,  bear  the  starry  banner. 

Till  land,  and  sea,  shall  peaceful  be, 
And  swell  the  loud  Hosanna.* 


(Benius. 

Genius  kindles  its  own  fires, 
With  poetry  the  soul  inspires, 
It  feeds  upon  its  own  bright  flame, 
And  records  high  its  deeds  of  fame, 

Say'st  thou  that  Genius  e'er  shall  die  ? 
That  spark  of  Immortality! 
Nay,  nothing  here  so  strong  can  bind 
The  Genius  of  Immortal  mind.; 


20 


Can  IKEle  Jforcjet? 

Oh,  can  we,  shall  we  e'er  forget, 

Sumpter's  and  Lincoln's  fall; 
Those  April  morns,  in  sorrow  set, — 

The  wormwood  and  the  gall? 

The  darkness,  dread,  and  gloom  that  came 

In  that  eventful  hour; 
The  servile  slave,  who  clanked  the  chain,— 

The  master's  league  of  power? 

The  threat,  the  blow — our  flag  struck  down, 

And  trampled  in  the  dust; 
When  spake  a  voice,  Jehovah's  own,— 
"  Freemen,  arise,  ye  must."  * 

Can  we  forget  the  parting  tear, 

The  father,  brother,  son? 
Can  we  forget  to  Freedom  dear 

Their  crown  of  glory  won  ? 

Long  as  a  sacred  fire  shall  burn 

Within  a  human  breast, 
So  shall  our  hearts  toward  them  yearn— 

Our  heroes  now  at  rest.? 

O.  yes,  as  long  as  stars  shall  shine, 

And  sun  shall  rise  and  set; 
As  long  as  Freedom  hath  a  shrine, 

We  cannot  them  forget.  ^ 


O'er  them  the  dear  old  flag  shall  wave, 
The  flag  'neath  which  they  fell; 

And  Freedom's  sons  o'er  their  gpsves, 
Shall  dirge  and  anthem  swell.  ' 


(Brecn  flDountain  State. 

Green  Mountain  State,  thy  stalwart  men 
Have  honored  thee  with  sword  and  pen; 
Thy  daughters,  fair,  are  brave  and  true, 
As  ever  smiled  'neath  heaven's  blue. 
Here  is  no  lord,  or  servile  slave, 
No  room  to  live,  or  find  a  grave. 
Time's  changes  come,  and  bring  decay, 
But  O,  thy  hills  pass  not  away; 
Thy  mountains  green,  majestic  stand, 
Like  truth,  eternal  they  shall  be. 
O,  in  our  constellation,  bright, 
Thou  art  a  star  of  glorious  light ; 
A  little  giant,  proud  and  grand; 
Helping  to  guard  a  Nation's  fate, 
With  power  and  justice  of  a  state. 
Thy  name,  and  fame  shall  live  for  aye, 
Shall  swell  the  anthem  of  the  free ; 
In  all  the  ages  yet  to  be, 
Throughout  our  own,  and  every  land. 


Sweet  Summer,  Gbou  art  Gone, 

Sweet  Summer,  thou  art  gone, 
And  Autumn  now  is  here; 

We  meet  thee  with  a  smile, 
A  kiss,  and  with  a  tear. 

We  meet  thee  with  a  smile, 

For  thy  beauteous  dawn  oflight; 

We  meet  thee  with  a  kiss, 

For  blushing  sweetly  into  night. 

We  meet  thee  with  a  tear, 
We  knew  most  passing  well, 

That  thou  wouldst  go  and  leave  us, 
And  bid  us  all  farewell. 

Yet  Summer,  lovely  Summer, 

Shall  we  not  meet  again, 
When  snow-wreaths  have  wasted, 

From  valley,  hill  and  plain  ? 

When  Spring-buds  of  promise 

Have  blossomed  into  flowers, 
And-song  birds  have  cheered  us, 
'  Mid  sunshine  and  'mid  showers. 

Again  with  loving  hearts, 

O,  dearest  may  we  meet, 
And  tread  among  thy  roses, 
With  strong  and  stainless  feet. 


autumn. 

Autumn,  I  love  thee — "  Season  of  mellow 
Fruitfulness,  of  the  sere  and  yellow  leaf." 
What  hand  of  art,  most  perfect,  so  nicely  paint 
As  Nature  doth  for  Thee?  with  colors  bright, 
Arrayed,  blending,  are  those  of  richest  hue. 
What  gorgeous  splendor  in  the  scene  around. 
In  thy  noon-tide  glory,  how  beautiful, 
How  grand,  and  how  sublime. 

The  forest  old, 

Stands  decked  in  thy  rich  vesture,  resplendent, 
Stately  and  tall,  with  age  honorable; 
From  years  of  youthful  bloom,  to  manhood's  prime, 
Budding  and  blossoming,  in  time  olden, 
And  meeting  the  chilling  blasts  of  winter, 
As  the  seasons  rolled  their  eternal  rounds. 
There's  such  an  awe  in  thy  solemn  grandeur, 
It  makes  me  love  thee  more,-more  than  all  else; 
Tis  this  which  leads  my  soul  to  contemplate 
The  wondrous  works  of  God,d^6me  loved  retreat, 
It  seeks,  wrapped  in  its  clayey  tenement. 
To  commune  with  Him,  maker  of  all  things, 
Who  puts  thy  glory  on. 

Alas*  how  soon 

The  never-staying  hand  of  time,  will  rob 
Thee  of  thy  golden  locks,  and  fling  around 
The  pall  of  gloom,  thyself  in  Winter's  arms,  t 


dbil&boofc's  1bome. 

Green  is  the  turf  whereon  I  trod, 

In  childhood's  merry  glee; 
Where  first  I  learned  the  name  of  God, 

Upon  my  mother's  knee. 

CHORUS. 
My  childhood's  home,  my  childhood's  home, 

I  now  no  longer  see ; 
Yet,  when  afar  I  from  it  roam, 

'Tis  mine  in  memory. 

The  merry  brook  went  prattling  by^ 
Its  banks  were  bright  and  green; 

Singing  to  me  its  lullaby,— 

But  now,  how  changed  the  scene. 

'  Twas  there  our  humble  cottage  stood, 

With  sunny  bank  before, 
From  whence  came  forth  the  prattling  brood,- 

Aye  then, — but  now  no  more. 

There  flowed  the  sweetly  murmuring  rill, 

In  accents  soft  and  low; 
Though  years  have  flown,  'tis  whispering  still 

Of  scenes^  long,  long  ago. 

25 


CHORUS. 

My  childhood's  home,  my  childhood's  home, 

I  now  no  longer  see; 
Yet,  when  afar  I  from  it  roam, 

'Tis  mine  in  memory. 

Father  and  mother,  there  were  mine; 

Brothers  and  sisters  dear; 
And  there  the  altar's  sacred  shrine,— 

But  now,  no  longer  there. 

And  there  were  those  who  roamed  with  me 

The  wildwood  and  the  dell; 
Whose  hearts  were  young,  and  gay,  and  free; 

We  meet  no  more. — Farewell. 

Stern  Death  has  found  his  victims  there, 

Has  laid  them  in  the  tomb; 
In  morning's  life,  the  young  and  fair,' 

Cut  off  in  youthful  bloom. 

Age,  youth,  and  friends,  and  time  have  fled, 

'  Mid  changes,  great  and  small, 
But  O,  ye  living,  and  ye  dead, 

I  love,  1  love  ye  all.* 

CHORUS. 

My  childhood's  home,  my  childhood's  home, 

I  now  no  longer  see; 
Yet  when  afar  I  from  it  roam, 
'Tis  mine  in  memory.* 

26 


I  come  and  homage  pay  to  thee, — 
So  terrible,  haughty  and  free ;  - 
O,  wonderful  Niagara.  ? 

I  stand  upon  thy  rugged  shore ;  — 
I  hear  thy  plunging  waters  pour;  - 
I  see,  I  feel,  thy  mighty  power.  - 

Oh;  cataract  of  olden  time  ;  - 

Most  wonderful  of  any  clime;  — 

Oh  J  who  can  paint  the  scenes  sublime? 

Thy  awful  grandeur  fills  the  soul,  — 
With  wonder, —  far  beyond  control/ 
Supremely  felt, —  and  yet  untold.^ 

$ 
Oh,,  who  can  picture  long  ago?- 

When  first  thou  met  Ontario;  — 
Or  broad  Atlantic  far  below? 

Oh,fwhence,  or  where  thy  waters  spedj 
When  first  upon  thy  rocky  bed, 
The  light  of  day  its  glory  shed  ? 

Far  o'er  the  vista  of  long  years,— 
Is  thrown  the  veil  of  misty  tears,— 
Eternity  thy  echo  hears. . 

Superior,  and  Huron,  come, 

And  Michigan,  and  Erie,  dumb,— - 

And  find  in  thee  a  living  tomb. - 

27 


Speed  oiij^  majestic,  proud  and  freey 
A  world  pays  homage  unto  thee, — 
Oh,  wonderful  Niagara.  I 


Winter,  1843*44. 

Stern  Winter  reigns  o'er  all  the  land, 

With  undiminished  sway; 
He  graspeth  all  with  icy  hand, 

Who  cometh  in  his  way. 

The  snow-clad  hills,  and  mountains  bold, 

Lift  up  their  hoary  head, 
And  seem  like  one  who  hath  grown  old, 

Their  youth  and  beauty  fled. 

The  crystal  Frost  bedecks  the  trees, 
Or  deathly  broods  the  flower; 

Ah;  yes,  the  cold  and  chilly  breeze, 
Bespeaks  old  Winter's  power. 

With  icy  fetters  binds  the  streams, 

The  sparkling,  flowing  rill, 
Where  silent,  lay  the  cold  sunbeams. 

And  all  is  lone  and  still. 

And  saddened  Nature  sleepeth  on, 

Deep  buried  in  her  tomb; 
And  heedeth  not,  with  hope  forlorn, 

Amid  the  deep'ning  gloom.'i 

28 


Ibastc  Gfoou  Sinner. 

Haste  thou  sinner,  lone  and  weary, 

For  danger  lieth  in  the  road; 
And  the  way  is  dark  and  dreary. 

While  a  wanderer  from  thy  God/ 

Speed  thee  on  thy  darksome  journey, 
For  howling  tempests  gather  'round; 

And  soon  the  bolts  of  heaven's  thunder, 
May  break  and  pour  its  awful  sound.! 

Then  poor  sinner,  where  for  shelter, 
Where  wilt  thou  Bee  to  hide  thy  head; 

In  thy  blood  then  wilt  thou  welter. 

Oh,  shun  the  wrath  of  God  most  dread.  • 

Oh,  methinks  I  hear  you  saying, 

I  now  will  turn  to  God  and  live ; 

^ 
While  the  bolts  of  wrath  he's  staying,; 

My  soul,  my  all  to  Him  I'll  give. 

So,  that  when  His  fury,  bursting, 
Upon  a  world  of  sin  and  woe; 

While  His  arrows,  barb'd  are  piercing, 
Quite  the  guilty  sinner  through.  • 

I  may  find  a  place  in  heaven, 

A  happy  home  where  angels  dwell; 

And  thece  with  all  that  are  forgiven, 

""**  fr 

The  song  of  ransomed  spirits  swell.  • 


1bope. 

Hope,  'tis  a  word  both  great  and  good, 

Most  mighty  in  its  sway; 
For  many  years  strong  hath  it  stood, 

While  chasing  doubt  away. 

A  tower  and  bulwark  of  defense, 

To  all  who  in  it  trust; 
A  light,  a  joy  to  feeble  sense, 

A  guide  for  sinful  dust. 

Hope/tis  a  gem — itself  the  thing 

Which  bids  us  look  and  see; 
Which  soars  on  Faith's  sublimest  wings, 

Into  futurity. 

Hope,  like  an  anchor  to  the  soul, 

Guides  safely  o'er  the  deep,* 
Where  giant  waves,  and  billows  roll? — 

Her  vigil  there  doth  keep. 

Our  bark,  of  winds  and  waves  the  sport, 

Glides  joyfully  along; 
With  Hope  to  guide  us,  and  escort, 

With  her  bright  banner  nV<"»*-  ^p 

By  Hope,  through  Faith,  the  Christian  looks, 
Fo'r  Grace,  and  Strength  divine ; 

And  with  the  key  of  Faith  unlocks, 
And  views  a  fairer  clime. 


He  hopes  that  when  his  days  are  past, 

And  all  his  work  is  done; 
To  sing  a  song  of  joy  at  last, 

Which  was  on  earth  begun.? 


February,  1842 


acrostic 


Many  are  the  joys  and  sorrows, 
In  this  lifej  'tis  ours  to  know. 
Never  comes  to  us  to-morrows,— 
Neverj'-while  we  onward  go. 
In  to-day, — of  golden  moments; 
Ever  find  we  weal  or  woe.  ? 

Envy  not  the  lot  of  others; 
Virtue  is  a  priceless  boon. 
Endear  thyself  to  sisters.,  brothers, 
Let  sunlight  in  thy  heart  find  room. 
Youth  and  beauty  never  die— 
No*—  eternal  are  the  ages. f 

Morning  scatters  night  away, 
O,  let  us  as  we  turn  life's  pages, 
Resolve,  to  better  live  each  day. 
So  may  we  seek, — -contentment  find; 
Ever  in  heart,  ever  in  mind.  "? 

31 


Zlbc  prater  for  Xife. 

A  Nation's  prayers  ascend  to-day, 
From  loyal  hearts  incessantly; 
To  God,  the  President  may  live, 
That  He  to  him,  yet  strength  will  give, 
So  he  may  rise  from  bed  of  pain, 
To  bless  us  and  the  world  again. 

Ohf  why  should  murderous  hand  be  raised, 
To  take  his  life,  to  end  his  days? 
Oh/  God,  it  is  Thy  mystery,  ? 
We  vainly  search,  we  cannot  see, 
Why  he  who  first  among  us  stood, 
Why  he  so  strong,  noble  and  good, 
Friend  of  his  race,  of  sin  the  foe, 
Should  sink  beneath  a  maniac's  blow. 

The  Nation's  pulses  throb  and  thrill, 
With  his  so  quick,  so  strong  of  willy 
Through  aU  the  day  with  fever  heat, 
In  unison  together  beat/ 
Through  all  the  night  of  mortal  pain, 
And  when  the  morning  came  again., 

Calmest  of  all  his  soul  appears; 
To  give  us  hope,  quiet  our  fears: 
OhJHope  so  small,  first  to  us  gave, 
Only  one  ray,  this  side  the  grave. ," 


^r 

nguished  souls,  oh,  tearless  eyes,. 

tour  of  dread,  how  paralyzed 
All  hearts,  —  but  lo/far  o'er  the  sea, 
From  the  Old  World,  comes  sympathy.  < 

God's  messengers  —  How  swift  they  go, 

#»•  A 

To  carry  news  of  weal  ajid  woe.  i 
O,  messengers  of  love,  —  ye  came, 
Flying  like  lightning's  vivid  flame,— 
Over  the  wires;  at  God's  commands, 
From  s)  mpathetic^Christian  lands.; 

Earth's  crowned  heads  and  potentates, 
Sent  words  of  cheer.  —  to  bar  the  gates, 
Of  death  I—  to  bear  our  chieftain  up,— 
Oh,  to  assuage  Woe's  bitter  cup.  - 


of  good,  to  mortal  sight,1 
Dispelling  shades  of  coming  night, 
May  freedom  lend  a  brighter  ray, 
For  those  who  lead  her  hosts  to-day, 
While  all  bow  down  and  humbly  own, 
Jehovah  reigns  £—  His  will  be 


Live?  manly  soul,  battling  for  life; 
Comes  from  the  homes  ot  all  the  free.- 
The  world  awaits  this  great,  grand  strife; 
And  countless  millions  yet  to  be^ 
Shall  rise  to  read,and  bless  thy  name, 
Enrolled  upon  the  lists  of  fame.  T 


33 


a  1b\>mn  from  tbe  96tb  i 

Sing  to  the  Lord  a  new-made  song; 

O,  all  ye  people  of  the  earth, 
Loud  shout  and  let  your  praise  prolong, 

Those  joyful  sounds  of  heavenly  birth. 

Sing  unto  Him,  and  praise  His  name, 
By  whom  we're  kept  from  day  to  day; 

And  to  the  heathen,  dark,  proclaim, 
His  glory  in  your  heavenly  lay. 

His  glory  sing,  His  wonders  tell, 

Displayed  in  Heaven,  in  earth,  in  air, 

Thy  holy  joy,  our  bosoms  swell, 

While  we  a  new-made  song  prepare. 

Honor,  and  strength,  and  majesty, 
To  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost, 
Pour  forth  with  heavenly  minstrelsy, 
Our  songs  of  praise  delightful,  most. 

Ye  Heavens  rejoice,  and  earth  of  rock, 
And  hill  and  dale  and  mountain  form; 

And  burning  fires  of  earthquake  shock, 
And  ye  aloud,  O,  tempest  storm. 

Thou  waving  sea,  be  glad,  rejoice, 
And  lift  in  praise  your  billows  high, 

With  thunder  roar  or  hollow  voice, 
With  fearful  gale  or  rippling  sigh. 

34 


Sing  to  the  Lord  a  new-made  song, 
f    And  bless  Him  for  His  holiness; 
And  let  it  sweetly  flow  along, 

Up  to  His  throne  of  heavenly  grace. 


December,  1842. 


Xifc  is  Sbort. 

Life  is  short  and  time  is  fleeting, 
Soon  the  day  of  life  is  fled. 

Soon  each  heart  now  proudly  beating. 
Will  lie  numbered  with  the  dead. 

Precious  moments,  swiftly  flying, 
Linger  not  with  us  to  stay, 

But  bear  us  on,  living  or  dying, 
To  the  spirit  land  away. 

Oh,  how  transient  is  life's  morning, 
Faded  soon  is  beauly's  bloom; 

And  manhood,  in  its  glorious  dawning, 
Shrouded  for  the  silent  tomb. 

And  old  age,  with  locks  all  hoary, 
Tottering  ready  for  its  fall ; 

Short  is  Life.  Oh,  short  is  glory, 
Short  is  most  for  each  and  all.. 

Published  in -Vermont  Christian  Messenger,  Feb.  26,  1854. 

35 


Gbe  Gelling  Bell. 

Hear  ye  the  tolling  bell? 
How  mournfully  it  peals,  how  sad  and  slow,* 
Death  has  hurled  his  dart,  another  is  laid  low; 

Has  bid  to  earth,  farewell,  f 

Another  mortal's  gone, 

Is  numbered  with  the  silent,  sleeping  dead; 
The  spirit,  freed,  hath  taken  wings  and  fled 

Where  we  are  hastening  on.  ? 

O 

How  short  our  life  below; 

How  soon  our  clays  are  past,  our  journey  o'er; 
Each  one  and  all  to  reach  that  distant  shore/ 

How  swiftly  on  we  go.  f 

O,  swiftly  on  we  glide? 
Unconsciously  adown  Time's  rapid  stream. 
Until  at  last  upon  our  visions,  gleam  j 

The  eternal  portals,  wide.r 

Hear'st  thou  the  tolling  bel^ f 
Mortal?   Oh^it  will  toll  for  thee,  for  me; 
Perchance  to-morrowr-to-morrow  it  may  be^ 

Or  sooner,  none  can  tell,  f 


Pub.  G.  M.  F.,  Feb.  1854. 


for  Minter. 

Now  Winter  is  with  us  again, 

His  mantle  about  us  is  spread; 
No  flowers  of  Summer  remain 

To  tell  of  the  fragrance  they  shed. 
The  voices  of  Nature  are  still, 

Her  minstrels  are  shrouded  in  gloom 
The  valley,  the  meadow  and  hill, 

No  longer  appear  in  their  bloom. 

The  forest  is  leafless  and  sad, 

The  grove  is  deserted  and  lone; 
There's  nothing  to  make  the  heart  gladj 

Since  music  of  Summer  is  gone. 
The  storm-clouds  are  out  in  the  sky, 

The  tempest  is  howling  around; 
With  fetters  which  seem  to  defy, 

The  Ice  King  the  rivers  hath  bound. 

How  gloomy  the  prospect  appears, 

How  cheerless  the  scenery  to  me; 
Lo,  Nature  is  silent,  in  tears,— 

In  bondage,  she  sighs  to  be  free. 
The  squirrel  and  bee  are  at  rest, 

Domestics  are  gathered  in  fold; 
Sure  nothing  unsheltered  were  blest, 

To  perish  or  starve  in  the  cold. 

How  merrily  tinkle  the  bells, 
Full  many  a  starry,  cold  night ; 

37 


While  passing  the  valleys  and  hills, 
The  coursers  speed  on  in  their  flight. 

With  rapture  each  bosom  now  swells, 
The  spirit  so  light  and  so  free; 

The  maidens  are  musical  bells, 

So  blithesome  and  merry  are  they. 

Yet  Winter,  Ohf  Winter  we  sigh, 

With  Nature  again  to  be  free; 
O,  speed  thee,  O,  hasten  and  fly. 

We'll  gladly  say  farewell  to  thee.? 
For  brighter  and  fairer  is  Spring, 

Its  sunshine  more  dear  to  our  heart; 
Then  hasten  on  readiest  wing, 

And  from  us  in  kindness  depart.  <> 


Iftame  of  HDorse. 

The  name  of  Morse  shall  live  for  aye,/ 

Lo/telegranij  "  What  hath  God  wrought," 
First  thrilled  along  the  trembling  wires  i 

By  spark  of  electricity,  t 

And  heaven  and  earth  have  made  replyj— 
Which  all  the  world  with  faith  inspires;— 

Proclaims,,  "  Live  on,,  thou  germ  of  thought 
Immortal  name,, —  shall  never  die."  * 


jfuneral 

O,  yes  thy  spirit  now  hath  gone ; 

Thy  soul  from  earth  hath  fled; 
Upon  the  wings  of  angels  borne, 

To  its  triumphant  Head. 

From  sin  and  sorrow,  pain  and  death, 

Thou  art  forever  free  ; 
We  saw  Thee  gasp  thy  latest  breath, 

We  sighing,  mournfully. 

Great  God,  impart  to  us  thy  grace, 

And  make  our  hearts  to  feel, 
So  we  may  humbly  seek  thy  face, 

Before  Thee  humbly  kneel. 

And  when  our  work  on  earth  is  done, 

And  we  to  death  are  given ; 
Pardon  receive  from  thy  dear  Son, 

And  find  a  home  in  heaven. 

Hymn  composed  by  myself,  copied  off  and  written  for  the  funeral  of  my 
father  and  sung  on  that  occasion. 
November,  1841. 


39 


Jfrom  Eartb  II  Soared  Hwa\x 

From  earth  I  soared  away, 
On  Fancy's  borrowed  wings, 

Up  to  the  realms  of  day, 
Where  joy  eternal  springs. 

Twas  there  I  saw  the  blest, 
And  saints  and  angels  high; 

Forever  at  their  rest, 

Where  Pain  and  Sorrow  fly. 

Nor  yet  are  they  at  rest, 
Forever  beaming  bright, 

They  lean  upon  His  breast 

Whose  robes  are  purely  white. 

And  fall  at  Jesus'  feet, 

And  sing  the  song  of  love  ; 

Harmoniously  sweet, 

The  anthem  swells  above. 

Through  Heaven  it  sweetly  rolls, 
And  mingles  with  the  light, 

Which  crowns  immortal  souls, 
And  makes  them  purely  white. 

I  saw  the  streets  of  gold, 
And  walls  of  jasper  there, 

And  spotless  hosts  unfold 
Victorious  palms,  they  bear. 

40 


Thou,  pass'd  .the  pearly  gates, 
Forever  now  at  home,' 

No  more  with  loves  and  hates, 
A  world  of  sin  to  roam.* 

And  yet  the  crowning  Light, 
Upon  His  throne  I  see; 

Dazzling  with  splendor  bright^ 
All  immortality,  f 

Too  bright  for  mortal  gaze, 
I  left  the  courts  above, 

Still  list'ning  to  the  lays? 
And  wond'ring  at  such  love. 


December,  1845. 


She  Bobolink 

The  bobolink  is  merry, 

A  merry  fellow  he.- 

He  sings  with  joyful  glee, 

Lo-pit-I-kit-ti-e-r-ry, 
Lo-kit-lo-kit-lo-kee. 

He  bathes  his  wings  in  sunlight, 
He  hovers  o'er  the  flow'rs; 
And  warbles  his  sweet  chorus , 
Through  all  the  blissful  hours, 
Lo-pit-lo-kit-ti-e-r-ry, 
Lo-kit-lo-kit-lo-kee. 

Down  in  the  meadow  yonder, 

He  sports  all  royally ; 

He  frolics  in  the  clover, 

And  plays  the  cooing  lover. 

Sings  lo-pit-ti-kit-ti-e-r-ry, 
Lo-kit-lo-kit-lo-kee. 

A  funny  feathered  fellow, 

So  comical  to  see; 

Black,  white,  red  and  yellow, 

He  sings  all  gay  and  free, 

Lo-pit-lo-pit-ti-e-r-ry, 
Lo-pit-lo-kit-lo-kee. 

He's  happy  'mong  the  roses, 
Sweet  June's  his  holiday; 

43 


He  soon  will  leave  the  posies, 
With  vvifey  fly  away. 

Down  to  the  sunny  Southland, 
Through  winter  there  to  stay; 
The  jolly  bob-o-link-tum, 
And  then  return  in  May,— 

Singing  his  lo-pit-lo-pit-ti-e-r-ry 

Lo-kit-lo-kit-lo-kee.  f 


Scraps. 

See  proud  Majestic  cleave  the  waves ; 

The  broad  Atlantic  swiftly  o'er: 
In  six  days  time, —  or  less, —  no  more,,— 

From  land  to  land,  from  shore  to  shore.? 


The  (dfible  grapples  Ocean's  caves. 

And  rests  on  Mermaid's  hidden  graves. 
Or  shallow  seas  its  bosom  laves;  - 

Beneath  the  billowy,  briny  waves.  ? 


'Tis  sweet  to  be  remembered*" 
When  all  without  is  drear; 

True  friendship  is  a  treasure, 
A  blessing  ever  <t/ear. 


43 


2acfe  anfc  1L 

Zack  and  I  went  a  hunting, 

Zack  and  I. 

With  my  gun  upon  my  shoulder, 

Zack  and  I. 

Zack  he  was  a  famous  hunter, 

Zackary. 

(Good  while,  I  guess). 

He  was  named  after  General  Taylor, 

So  was  I. 
Soon  we  found  the  festive  squirrel, 

Chipperi. 

How  he  chittered,  how  he  chattered, 
How  he  scratched  and  played  his  antics, 

Chipperi. 

O,  the  funny  little  squirrel, 
Laying  in  his  precious  store; 
Filled  his  chops  with  little  nutties, 
Then  skipping  back  to  find  some  more. 

Chipperi. 
So  we  left  him  in  his  glory, 

Chipperi. 
Let  him  tell  rest  of  the  story. 

Chipperi. 
Famous  hunters,  homeward  scampered; 

Zack  and  I. 


44 


Snow. 

Snow,  snow,  snow,,  with  a  whiff,and  with  a  wheeze; 

Something  of  a  breeze,  or  a  regular  blizzard.* 

Of  who  can  know,  who  is  there  can  tell/ 

Why  it  came  or  fell?     Either  a  witch  or  wizard! 

Damp,  cold,  damp,  the  weather  has  spells, 

Now  take  off  the  bells3  no  longer  can  they  jingle.* 

Tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  now  take  off  the  shoes,  the  nags 

would  losey 
And  shovel  out  with  a  shingle^  f_ 

Snow,  snow,  snow, 
Man's  patience  it  goads,  it  blocks  up  the  roads, 

Where  before  it  had  drifted. 

Time  to  plough.  ? 
And  yet  it  comes  down  on  country  and  town, 

With  puje  wantonness  gifted,  j 

Toot,  toot,  toot.? 
Now  blow  out  your  wrath,  to  clear  away  path, 

For  the  engine's  bulldozing,  § 
With  whistle  and  steam,  with  war-whoop  and  scream^ 

To  bunt  out  the  snow-zing.^t  _ 

ilj  mail,  mail, 


Neither  came  or  went,  to  any  one,  — 
Or  feminine  gender,     f 
ain^  haiL  don't  be  too  polite, 
To  Misses  Snow-WhiteTTor  she's  out  on  a  bender,  v 


flbourri. 

Mourn  for  our  hero  dead^- 
Mourn  for  the  Nation's  heaoV- 
Mourn  for  the  hope  that's  fled/ 

Weepfweepj — if  tears  can  flow,: 
Oh^weep  in  bitter  woe.t- 
One  noble  is  laid  low 

By  an  assassin's  hand. 

Bow  down,  oh,  stricken  landj- 

In  awful  silence, — grand.? 

t 

Oh/put  thou  sackcloth  on, 

For  him,  our  chosen  one. 
Lament  his  work  undone.1! 

Cease,  cease,  O,  busy  strife,? 
The  Nation's  pale  with  grief.  - 
The  world  has  lost  a  life.? 

From  homes  of  all  the  free, 
Ascends,  O,  God,  to  thee, 
A  wail  of  agony.  / 

'Mid  dirges  muffled  deep, 
We  bear  him  to  his  sleep. 
While  freedom's  angels  weep.* 


A  martyr's  crown  of  glory  bright, 
Chieftain^is  waiting  now  for  thee.  t 
Thou  battled  nobly  for  the  right; 
And  countless  millions  yet  to  be, 
Shall  rise  to  read^and  bless  thy  name, 
Enrolled  upon  the  lists  of  fame.  - 


IReliancc  on  Ibeaven. 

Another  day  has  passed  away, 

And  yet  I  find  me  here; 
Life's  stormy  sea  still  sailing  on, 

Where  dangers  thick  appear. 

The  gather'd  storms  fall  thick  and  fast, 

The  winds  a  tempest  blow; 
O,  shall  I  then  my  anchor  cast, 

Or  shall  I  onward  go? 

I'll  speed  my  way  though  darkness  reigns; 

Though  mighty  billows  roll; 
Though  thunder-car  and  lightning-train, 

Pierce  Nature  to  her  soul. 

The  star  of  hope  my  eye  shall  view, 

I  ne'er  will  give  it  o'er; 
Sure  it  will  guide  me  safely  through, 

To  Heaven's  peaceful  shore. 

January,  1844. 

47 


flowers. 

Ye  flowers  that  now  with  beauty  bloom, 
And  shed  sweet  fragrance  'round ; 

Ye  soon  will  find  an  early  tomb, 
For  ye  are  of  the  dust. 

The  opening  bud  that  with  the  morn, 

Unfolds  its  leaves  to  us; 
Blooms  for  awhile,  and  though  new-born, 

Must  soon  return  to  dust. 

Ye  sweetest  flowers,  of  brightest  hues. 

Most  odorous  and  sweet; 
Who  can  to  you  on  earth  refuse, 

And  trample  under  feet. 

Who  can  to  you  on  earth  deny, 

That  in  fair  Nature's  fields, 
You  wear  the  diadem, —  a  die 

Of  all  creation  yields. 

O,  bloom  ye  then  bright  flowers,  sweet  flowers, 

With  beauty  and  perfume;  — 
Ye  zephyrs  soft,  refreshing  showers, 

In  lovely  month  of  June. 

Ye're  gathering  laurels  for  the  tomb, 

And  soon  ye,  too,,  must  die; 
Yet  some;  perchance,  we  know  not  whom, 

May  first  beneath  you  lie. - 

1844. 


almost  j£iQbt. 

Almost  eight,  rather  late 
To  get  up  in  the  morning, 

For  all  day,  O,  don't  lay 
So  latCj  bad  habits  forming.- 


But  arouse,  from  your  drowse, 
E'en  while  the  morning  breezes,, 

Blowing  soft,  sigh  aloft, 
Among  the  forest  treeses.  • 

Ope  your  eyes,  wake,,  arise,' 

E'en  while  the  zephyrs  breathing,, 

On  the  air,  sweetly  there, 

A  flow'ret  garland's  wreathing. 

Wake  and  view,  ever  new, 
The  beauties  of  the  morning. 

See  daylight,  scatter  night, 
Of  the  day  giving  warning.  ? 


Gems  there  are  of  this  fair  earth;  — 
Gems  of  almost  priceless  worth,  - 
Glittering  'mong  the  dross  of  earth,  f 


49 


2)oubt  atto  jfear. 

O,  gloomy  Doubt  and  dismal  Fear, 

That  writhes  with  agony, 
The  heart  of  him,  within  whose  ear, 

'Tis  all  uncertainty. 

You  near  together  are  allied, 

Together  mostly  act, 
Most  cautious  view  the  soul  that's  tried, 

And  cunningly  attack. 

Doubt,  with  a  tale  as  false  as  fair, 
Would  fain  make  us  believe 

That  we  are  wrong,  and  must  take  care 
What  we  for  faith  receive. 

While  Fear,  awak'ned  by  that  Doubt, 

That  has  on  us  got  hold; 
Makes  us  to  shake  and  reel  about,— 

That  wily  thing  of  old. 

When  in  the  garden  Mother  Eve 

Was  placed  by  her  God ; 
He  told  that  she  must  not  grieve,— 

If  so,  must  feel  the  rod. 

With  syren  tongue  and  soothing  song; 

Most. archly  was  beset; 
And  doubting,  whether  right  or  wrong, 

Was  caught  in  that  sly  net. 

5° 


Then  Fear  began  to  act  her  part, 

And  quickly  on  the  heel/ 
Of  doubt,  she  trod,  and  in  the  heart 

Now  shook  like  thunder  peaU 

By  way  of  Doubt,  that  o'er  her  drew 

Her  shadowed  mantle  there; 
By  way  of  Fear,  that  wretched  threw 

Her  deep  into  Despair,  - 

She  found  at  last  she  had  been  led 

To  see  the  wickedness; 
These  knaves  had  done,  and  Conscious  stung, 

Then  grieved  in  wretchedness* 

O/  Doubt,  that  in  the  times  of  old; 

With  falsehood  made  believej' 
That  into  bondage,  all  men  sold  " 

The  progeny  of  Eve* 

O,  Fear,  most  dreadful,  that  did  sting, 

Awful  with  sensation, 
The  heart  of  Eve,— of  Death  the  King 

Over  all  creation. 

Of  Doubt  and  Fear  from  me  depart, 

No  longer  be  your  stay; 
But  let  bright  Hope  beam  on  my  heart, 

To  cheer  me  on  my  way.y 


IReturn  of  flfcap,  1844. 

We  welcome  thee,  returning  May, 
Thou  lovely  daughter  of  the  Spring; 

We  welcome  thee  this  holiday, 

For  thou  dost  joy  and  gladness  bring. 

Blest  health  is  on  thy  blooming  cheek, 
And  youth  and  beauty  in  thine  eyes; 

Ah,  lovely  maiden,  mild  and  meek, 
Thou  art  a  child  of  Paiadise. 

And  thou  hast  come  our  earth  to  bless, 
With  fairy  breeze,  refreshing  showers; 

With  all  thy  beauties,  numberless, 
To  beautify  this  earth  of  ours. 

Sweet  music  breathes  on  every  gale, 

Creation's  chorus  joins  the  lay; 

All  welcome  thee  and  gladly  hail, 

jAgain_thy_srmles_,  J^eturrnng 

Ere  the  sun,  has  begun 

To  light  with  golden  beaming,- 

Soon  as  a  ray  of  opening  day> 
Is  on  the  hillside  streaming. 

Slumber  break,  stir,  awakef 

While  on  thy  cheek  is  glowing, 
Blooming  health,  greatest  wealthy 
That  life's  on  thee  bestowing,  y 


Let  not  sleep  drowsy?keep, 
Thee  on  thy  pallet  snoozing; 

Early  rise,  seize  the  prize, 

And  see  the  day's  dawn  and  closing.^ 


IRepeal 

Repeal^  repeal^  oh^  far  and  wide, 

Let  hill  and  valley  ring  ; 
Repeal,  repeal,,  each  mountain  side, 

Sends  back  its  echoing.  £ 

Our  happy  homes,  no  longer  free, 

For  those  who  hither  flyj 
That  they  may  taste  sweet  liberty; 

Repeal,  repeal  the    cry.  f 

What  though  but  scorn  our  prayer  may  meet, 

Petition, —  cry  repeal ; 
'Till  thunder  shakes  the  Judgment  Seat, 

And  legislators  kneel.  ? 

For  liberty,  unmoved  by  awe, 
Let  sober  reason  speak ; 

And  doomed  shall  be  the  odious  law, 

f 

Which  makes  blest  freedom  weep. « 


IRcw  l?eai\ 

A  bright  New  Year  has  come  again, 

How  light  he  trips  along; 
He  lists  not  to  the  wild  wind's  roar, 

Nor  to  the  merry  song. 

He  flies  o'er  the  mountain,  hill  and  dale, 

He  enters  every  door; 
Upon  his  face  the  mystic  veil, 

He  from  the  Old  Year  tore,  f 

"My  time  has  come,"  the  Old  Year  said, 

"My  last  day  now  is  o'er; 
So  take  thou  this  of  crimson  red, 
And  wear  it  as  I  wore."? 

"The  eyes  of  man  shall  strive  in  vain, 

To  read  thy  changeful  face; 
Wear  it  as  tr? Uilfdays  of  yore, 
The  eldest  of  our  race."? 

And  thus  the  New  Year  comes  again, 

How  light  he  trips  along; 
He  lists  not  to  the  wild  wind's  roar;x 

Nor  to  the  merry  song. 


54 


Iftovember. 

November  is  a  gloomy  month, 

Yet  beauty  in  its  gloom ; 
Though  Nature's  sweets  have  most  decayed, 

And  found  an  early  tomb. 

There's  gloom  upon  the  forest  trees. 

With  mourning  they  are  clad, 
And  nothing  in  the  dismal  scene 

To  cheer  or  make  them  glad. 

There's  gloom  upon  the  mountain  top, 

And  gloom  within  the  valley; 
And  there  is  gloom  in  moaning  winds, 

When  they  around  us  rally. 

Ther'es  gloom  when  tempest-clouds  and  storms 

With  violence  are  driven; 
And  whirlwinds  feel  the  biting  lash, 

Of  the  charioteers  of  Heaven. 

November  is  a  gloomy  month, 

Yet  beauty  in  its  gloom; 
Though  Nature's  sweets  have  most  decayed, 

And  found  an  early  tomb. 

There's  beauty  in  the  moonlight  eve, 

When  stars  are  shining  bright; 
And  all  the  host  of  Heaven  appear, 

Refulgent  with  their  light. 

55 


'Tis  then  I  love  to  wander  out, 

Their  loveliness  to  see; 
And  view  the  glowing  splendors, — light, 

The  vault  of  Heaven's  canopy. 

A  pure  and  steady  light  they  burn, 

A  flame  of  living  light; 
While  every  orb  helps  constitute 

The  diadem  of  night. 

November  is  a  gloomy  month, 

Yet  beauty  'mid  its  gloom; 
Though  Nature's  sweets  have  most  decayed, 

And  found  an  early  tomb. 


anfc  Satmess. 


Joy  and  Sadness,  Grief  and  Gladness, 

Are  combined  together; 
Our  Hope  in  One,  bright  as  the  sun, 

Is  banished  by  the  other. 


jfatber  anb  fIDotber. 

My  father  and  mother  have  gone  to  their  rest; 
And  found  as  we  hope  a  home  with  the  blest; 
From  sorrow  and  sighing,  forever  are  free, 
In  the  blessed  abodes  of  eternity. 

My  dearest,  good  mother,  was  the  first  one  to  go, 

On  her  brow  was  the  paleness,  on  her  cheek  the  hectic 

glow; 

She  saw  that  consumption  was  wasting  away. 
Yet  breath'd  not  a  prayer  here  longer  to  stay. 

But  calmly,  when  death  was  wasting  her  form, 
With  composure  prepared,  for  a  fairer,  brighter  morn. 
When  her  time  had  come,  and  her  spirit  had  fled. 
With  hope  in  her  soul,  she  slept  with  the  dead. 

After  years  had  elaps'd,  my  father  laid  down, 
A  wearysome  burden  for  an  immortal  crown. 
Long  wearysome  watchings,  of  sorrow  and  pain, 
Were  his  to  endure,  •    'til  Death,  the  conquerer  came. 

They  have  passed  through  a  world  of  troubles  and  cares; 
And  leave  us,  their  children,  to  encounter  its  snares ; 
Their  counsel  we  know,  for  often  'twas  given, 
Let  wisdom  on  earth  direct  you  to  Heaven. 

Farewell^  then,  dear  parents,  your  sufferings  are  o'er; 
Nor  would  we  recall  you,  from  Heaven's  bright  shore. 
No,  rather  in  silence,  in  solitude  weep, 
While  you  each  are  embalmed  in  memory  deep. 

57 


O|/ farewell,  but  ever  may  you  live  in  our  heart, 
Till  we,  from  from  this  world  so  fading,  depart* 
And  then  may  our  spirits,  o'erflowing  with  love, 
Eternally  mingle,  in  union  above,   f 

April,  1845. 


doulfc  We  But  IRnow. 

Could  we  but  know,  or  could  we  see, 
Our  lot  on  earth^r-what  is  to  be,— 
Would  it  more  joy,  or  sorrow  give? 
Despair,  the  most,  or  faith  to  live? 

O,  joyous  is  the  heart,  or  sad; 
Despondent,  —  or  'tis  light  and  glad;— 
With  hope  to  cheer  us  on  our  way; 
Yet  looking  for  a  brighter  day. 

Of  but  for  hope  our  heart  would  break,- 
So  'twas  the  tongue  of  mortal  spake, 
In  olden  time,—  is  it  not  true 
Of  each  and  all,  myself  and  you? 


No  wish  or  thought,  no  eye  can 
The  future  of  Eternity,  if 
Oh,'  only  Hope  and  Faith,,  sublime, 
Can  soar  beyond  the  bounds  of  Time,- 


Late  Poem. 

58 


HDemorial  Ibpmn. 

(Bedeck  their  graves.) 

Bedeck  their  graves  with  choicest  flow'rs, 
The  sweetest  flow'rs  of  Springy  _ 

In  these  sublime  and  pensive  hours. 
Our  tribute  here  we  bring.  ^ 

Sad  mother,  weep  thy  absent  one, 

Sister,  thy  brother  dear ; 
Proud  father,  o'er  thy  noble  son, 

Let  fall  thy  manly  tear.  - 

CHORUS. 

The  Union  forever,  cemented  with  blood;: 
May  nothing  it  sever,  O,r  merciful  God.  . 

For  ohf  they  bade  their  country  live. 

In  Freedom's  darkest  hour, 
And  in  their  death;  they  to  it  gave, 

A  great  and  glorious  dow'r.  • 

Dark  was  the  morn,  and  dark  the  day; 

The  nation  clad  in  woe^; 
When  her  foul  sj^in^vas  washed  away, 

In  their  life-blood's  crimson  flow,  f 

CHORUS. 

The  Union  forever,  cemented  with  blood  ;r 
May  nothing  it  sever,  O,  merciful  God.   ! 

Sleep  on,  O,  noble  heroes,  sleep; 
Ye  lov'd  and  tried  and  true; 

59 


While  Freedom's  sons  shall  come  and  weep, 
A  nation's  love  for  you/ 

And  strew  the  sweetest  flowers  of  Spring, 

Upon  each  soldier's  grave; 
Who  gave  his  life  an  offering, 

Our  glorious  land  to  save.£ 

CHORUS. 

The  Union  forever,  cemented  with  blood ;  ? 
May  nothing  it  sever,  O,  merciful  God.     • 

Composed  1871  or  1872. 


Death. 

Stern  Death  is  on  our  track, 
Though  noiseless  he  may  be; 

Whatever  windings  we  may  make, 
We  cannot  from  him  flee. 

In  Pleasure's  flowery  road, 
In  Folly's  blinding  way; 

In  Virtue's  paths,  by  many  trod, 
He  follows  silently. 

And  though  we  see  him  not, 
Nor  can  his  footsteps  hear, 

We  shall  be  his,  for  'tis  our  lot, 
To  grace  his  sable  bier. 

60 


TKHaitin0  for  tbe  IRain. 

Waiting,  waiting,  waiting, 
Waiting  for  the  rain. 

It  seems  as  though  it  never 
Would  bless  our  homes  again. 

Scorching  the  lurid  sunshine, 
On  valley,  hill  and  plain ; 

These  drouthy  days  of  summer, 
With  languor  on  their  train. 

Sultry  the  air,  and  fitful, 

The  winds  that  sigh  in  vain; 

We  look,  and  wait,  and  murmur, 
Of  blasted  hopes  again. 

Each  tree,  and  leaf,  and  flower, 
Or  what  of  them  remain, 

Invoke  a  potent  shower, 
To  bless  each  germ  again. 

Waiting,  hoping,  trusting, 
Despairing,  yet  not  slain, 

All  life  is  thirsting,  praying,, 
For  the  cool,  life-giving  rain.! 

Composed  1875.  or  near^severe  drouth. 


a  Ibpmn  of  praise  ant>  Invocation. 

Of  God,  to  thee  I  bend  the  knee, 

To  thee  I  humbly  own 
Obedient  bow,  and  worship  now 

The  Lord  upon  His  throne,  f 

Another  day  has  passed  away, 
And  now  the  night  comes  on; 

Thy  pow'r  has  kept,  while  time  has  reapt, 
And  Death  his  work  has  done. 

Of  may  I  be  thankful  to  Thee 
For  all  thy  mercies  shown ; 

My  sins  forgive,  and  may  I  live 
Nearer  thy  great  white  throne? 

My  pray'r  is  said,  and  on  my  bed 

I  lay  me  down  to  rest; 
O,  safely  keep,  while  I  do  sleep, 

And  fold  me  to  thy  breast.  * 

And  when  the  light,  dispels  the  night, 
And  reds  the  morning  skies; 

May  I  anew,  my  way  pursue, — 
My  journey  to  the  skies,  t 

January,  1844. 


There  is  a  State  out  in  the  West, 

Close  nestling  by  Mississippi's  side;_ 

By  Nature  and  by  man  'tis  blest, 
With  fields  magnificent  and  wide. 

And  would  you  know  her  name,  my  boy? 

It  is  our  glorious  Illinois.  ? 

Tis  but  of  late  the  red  man  trod; 

Among  the  wild  flowers  in  their  bloom. 
And  swiftly  o'er  her  virgin  sod> 

The  deer  was  chased  and  met  his  doorn, 
By  warrior  brave  and  Indian  boy, 
Along  the  shores  of  Illinois.- 

And  o'er  her  prairies,-  broad  and  free, 
The  buffalo  did  graze  and  roam. 

Where  now  the  golden  grain  we  see,  - 
Where  now  we  find  a  pleasant  home.; 

And  glad  to  speak  with  pride  and  joy, 

The  glorious  name  of  Illinois.  • 

All  honor  to  the  men  who  came* 

The  bold  and  hardy  pioneers; 
With  hands  and  hearts,  to  till  and  tame^^ 

The  way  prepare  for  coming  years. 
Three  cheers  for  them,  three  cheers,  my  boy, 
The  pioneers  of  Illinois,  t 


Gof  farmer,  follow  up  the  plow, 

And  plant  with  care  the  willing  soil; 

Plant  trees  as  well  as  corn,  and  vow 
Tis  not  thy  mission  to  destroy ; 

But  rather  elevate*  my  boy; 

The  glorious  name  of  Illinois.: 

And  while  our  tribute  here  we  pay, 

To  those  who've  come  and  gofce  beforej 

Arise/  Majestic,  lead  the  way, 
O,v  Prairie  State,  forevermore,? 

The  Empire  State  may  bear,  my  boy, 
The  glorious  name  of  Illinois.  ' 


Strains  2>iv>ine. 

Strains  divine,  peal'd- forth  anew, 
And  on  the  wings  of  cherubs  flew, 
Up  to  Heaven. 


Stern  Winter  IReigns. 

Stern  Winter  reigns,  triumphant  now, 
And  spreads  his  wings  abroad ; 

He  pays  his  yearly,  snowy  vow, 
And  Heaven  ward,  points  to  God. .' 


One  year  ago  we  welcomed  thee, 
And  now  again  thy  beauty  see. 
Behold  again  thy  loveliness. 
Which  does  the  eyes  of  millions  bless. 

And  fain  with  harp  of  merry  string, 
Would  of  thy  graces  gladly  sing. 
And  what,  has  May  returned  again, 
To  robe  in  green  the  fruitful  plain? 

And  hill  and  valley,  high  and  low, 
Say,  of  her  comings  do  you  know? 
O,  yes,  for  flowers  are  on  her  brow, 
And  shed  their  fragrance  o'er  us  now. 

And  springing  fresh  within  our  vales, 
They  listen  to  the  merry  tales 
Of  thousand  songsters  as  they  sing, 
And  float  away  on  airy  wing. 

Ask  of  her  coming,  do  you  know, 
When  such  music  forth  doth  flow. 
We  tell  you  nothing  else  to-day, 
Could  cause  such  joy  as  youthful  May 

Then  joy  awake  within  my  heart, 
And  let  me  take  some  humble  part, 
While  all  creation  sweetly  sings, 
And  claps  for  joy  her  thousand  wings. 

65 


Thy  breath,  O,  Spring,  we  did  inhale, 
And  life  and  health  we  did  inhale, 
When  first  the  ray  of  morning  broke, 
And  things  inanimate  awoke. 

Twas  then  the  stately  forest  old 
Stood  forth,  its  presence  to  unfold; 
Bright  beaming  like  a  ray  of  truth, 
In  all  the  innocence  of  youth. 

And  thus  she  stood,  welcome  that  day, 
The  wintry  storms  had  passed  away. 
Her  eternal  years  and  hoary  age 
Had  fled  before  a  brighter  page. 

The  shades  of  death  far  from  her  fly, 
While  she  whispers  joyfully: 
Come  lovely  songsters  to  my  bow'rs, 
Come  and  deck  me,  fragrant  flowers, 
For  youth  and  beauty,  all  combine, 
A  wreath  of  laurel  to  entwine. 

Then  next  in  place  stood  they  of  song, 
To  share  the  bliss  which  seemed  so  young, 
And  forth  outright  with  merry  glee 
They  poured  their  sweetest  minstrelsy. 

And  thus  they  sang  with  gladsome  notes 
And  music,  made  from  mellow  throats: 
Up  now,  ye  flowers,  and  view  the  morn. 
Behold  the  millions  yet  unborn; 

66 


Come  forth  and  blossom,  fragrance  shed, 
No  longer  deem  we  all  are  dead. 

Join  in  the  song  and  swell  the  theme; 
Awake,  and  view  the  morning's  beam; 
Arise,  and  see  the  forest  gleam, 
And  know  that  Nature  doth  redeem, 
From  sleep  and  death,  from  wintry  clime, 
And  bringeth  back  the  blest  Springtime. 

'Twas  thus  the  flowers  made  their  reply: 
We  gladly  hear  your  melody, 
We  thank  you  for  your  kind  invite, 
And  hope  we  soon  shall  bless  your  sight; 
And  shed  our  fragrance  on  the  air, 
And  greet  the  song  that's  swelling  there. 

We  love  the  Spring,  its  rocks  and  vales, 
Its  hills  and  valleys,  verdant  dales. 
We  love  its  sunlight,  bright  and  clear, 
We  love  the  freshness  of  its  air. 
We  love  to  look  from  woodlands  green, 
And  all  the  spacious  room  between. 

We  love  the  sounds  of  joyous  mirth, 
Waking  o'er  the  radiant  earth. 
We  like  to  hear  the  cascade's  fall, 
And  waters  to  each  other  call. 
We  love  the  song  all  Nature  sings : 
Hosannah  to  the  King  of  Kings. 

May,  1845, 

67 


Speak  ltfnW\>. 

Speak  kindly  to  each  other, 

Speak  with  all  loving  kindness; 

And  remember  that  thy  brother 
Sees  best  thy  own  deep  blindness. 

All  sometimes  are  in  error; 

And  some  are  faulty  often. 
Speak  kindly  to  each  other; 

For  harsh  words  cannot  soften. 

Speak  kindly  and  forgiving, 
For  words  in  anger  spoken, 

Forever  they  are  living; 

When  tender  ties  are  broken. 

Speak  kindly  to  thy  neighbor; 

He  sees  not  his  own  weakness. 
Speak  kindly-for  peace  labo$,— 

Thy  duty,  in  all  meekness. 

Speak  kindly  ;  full  of  sorrows, 
Are  the  hearts  of  many  others; 

Aid  and  cheer  them,  for  to-morrow, 
Thou  may'st  need  from  thy  brothers, 

Speak  kindly  ;-full  of  frailty 
Are  we  allj-mnless  forgiving, 

Can  we,  poor  and  erring  mortals, 
Hope  to  meet  at  last  in  Heaven? 

68 


Gears. 

Who  hath  not  known  their  worth? 
They  often  bring  relief 
To  hearts  when  full  of  grief, 
To  the  sorrowing  ones  of  earth, 
They  often  bring  relief. 

Be  not  ashamed  to  weep. 
Down  let  the  tear-drops  roll. 
The  anguish  of  the  soul, 
They  tell  how  strong  and  deep, 
They  tell  how  strong  and  deep, 
Down  let  the  tear-drops  roll.* 

They  are  the  Spirit's  friend. 
Then  let  them  fill  the  eye, 
And  chase  away  the  sigh 
That  doth  with  anguish  rend ; 
That  doth  with  anguish  rend ; 
Then  let  them  fill  the  eye. 

Sparkling  like  dewy  gems, 
They  bless  us  ere  we  know. 
They  soften  human  woe. 
Richer  than  diadems, 
Richer  than  diadems. 
They  bless  us  ere  we  know. 

69 


Who  would  without  them  be? 
Mortal,  could'st  thou  not  weep, 
Thy  joys  and  sorrows  deep, 
What  would  become  of  thee? 
What  would  become  of  thee, 
Mortal,  could'st  thou  not  weep? 

Through  them  we  look  to  Heaven. 
In  answer  to  our  prayer, 
Hoping  for  mercy  there, 
We  read  our  sins  forgiven ; 
We  read  our  sins  forgiven  ; 
In  answer  to  our  prayer. 


70 


poor. 

The  poor,  oh,  they  are  many, 
And  scattered  far  and  wide; 

They  dwell  among  the  mountains, 
And  by  the  ocean's  tide. 

They  live  by  plain  and  river, 
They  throng  the  busy  street, 

And  many  are  the  noble  hearts 
Which  in  their  bosoms  beat. 

They  build  not  costly  houses, 
Nor  Mammon  is  their  God ; 

They  live  in  little  cottages, 
Their  sweat  bedews  the  sod. 

Theirs  are  the  hands  that  labor, 
To  earn  their  daily  bread; 

Without  a  downy  pillow, 
On  which  to  lay  their  head. 

Without  the  ease  and  comfort, 
The  rich  so  much  possess; 

Who  sooner  will  oppress  them, 
Than  comfort,  love  and  bless. 

They  toil  and  strive  and  struggle, 
With  poverty  and  care; 

And  many  are  the  hardships 
They  meet  and  meekly  bear. 

71 


Though  sometimes  they  may  murmur, 

So  hard  their  earthly  lot ; 
And  strive  to  live  as  honest, 

Though  change  it  they  may  not. 

And  theirs  are  hidden  sorrows, 
No  human  heart  can  know; 

O,  many  are  the  secret  tears, 
Which  from  their  fountains  flow. 

Though  they  may  know  contentment, 
More  than  the  wealthy,  far ; 

Who  live  in  costly  splendor, 

With  naught  but  wealth  to  mar. 

Though  small  their  earthly  treasure, 

More  honest  they  may  be, 
Than  they  who  scorn  them  for  their  lot, 

And  roll  in  luxury. 

And  Heaven  may  be  nearer, 

Their  hope's  bright  glorious  home; 

Where  they  may  dwell  forever, 
Where  Mammon  cannot  come. 


Hll  mature  Sings. 

All  Nature  sings; 
Its  chorus  rings, 
While  echo  brings 
Upon  its  wings 
Sublimest  things. 

I  hear  its  voice  ; 
It  bids  rejoice 
With  ceaseless  noise; 
And  O,  what  toys, 
Presents  its  joys! 

Its  do,  la,  se, 
Singeth  to  me  ; 
And  land  and  sea 
Are  full  of  glee ; 
O,  bend  the  knee. 

O,  one  and  all, 
Down  let  us  fall; 
For  from  this  ball 
Its  voice  doth  call,— 
Behold  and  fall,  t 


73 


a  Sister's  IDpins  Jfarewcll. 

Farewell,  my  friends,  farewell,  I  go ; 
But  let  no  tear  of  sorrow  How ; 
Mourn  not  for  me,  O,  do  not  weep, 
When  calmly  I  shall  fall  asleep, 
When  gently  death  shall  close  my  eyes, 
To  ope  again  in  Paradise. 

This  world  is  beautiful,  'tis  true, 

Of  light  and  shade,  and  youth  and  bloom; 

And  now  I  go  away  to  view 

A  fairer  one  beyond  the  tomb, 

Whose  beauties  bright  shall  ever  be 

Illuming  long  Eternity. 

Farewell,  ye  woods,  ye  birds,  ye  flowers, 
Ye  cooling  shades,  refreshing  showers, 
Ye  hills  and  dales  and  mountain  forms, 
Ye  moaning  winds,  ye  tempest  storms; 
No  more  of  you  my  senses  tell ; 
But,  oh,  'tis  hard  to  say  farewell! 

Rocks,  founts  and  rills,  and  flowing  streams, 
Ye  balmy  airs  and  morning  beams, 
Ye  clouds  and  skies,  and  day  and  night, 
Ye  morn  and  eve,  with  beauty  bright, 
Sun,  moon  and  stars,  and  mournful  knell, 
I  now  must  bid  you  all  farewell."? 


Farewell,  my  home,  my  native  hearth, 

To  me  the  dearest  spot  on  earth. 

Adieu,  vain  hope  and  fleeting  time ; 

I  leave  you  for  a  fairer  clime. . 

Ye  holy  days  and  Sabbath  bell. 

Much  have  I  loved  you  —  long"  and  well.? 

That  brighter  world  breaks  on  my  view ; 
My  suff 'rings  o'er,  my  journey  through. 
Ye  angel  bands,  my  spirit  bear, 
Far  from  this  world  of  pain  and  care. 
Ye  friends  and  scenes  I've  loved  so  well, 
With  joy  I  breathe  a  last  farewell.  » 


acrostic. 

ORPHA    SHIPMAN. 

Cty  Calvary^  'tis  oft  1  think  of  thee, 

Red  with  bloody,  dying  agony; 

Put  on  my  soul  thy  own  immortal  light, 

Hushed  in  deep  awe,  yet  trembling  at  the  sight,: 

An  ashy  paleness  settles  on  thy  brow. 

Savior,  Redeemer,  and  Lord,  but  Thou 
Hast  strength  thy  dying  agony  to  bear  f 
In  answer  to  thy  last  imploring  prayer, 
Prayer  offered  upj-but  not  for  strength  alone, 
My  god  forgive  them,  blent  with  every  groan. 
Ages  have  fledj-that  prayer  for  thee,  for  me; 
Ne'er  dies^but  lives  with  scenes  of  Calvary,  f 

75 


Spring. 

O,  gentle  Spring,  thou  hast  returned  once  more; 

The  Winter's  past,  his  dismal  reign  is  o'er, 

And  thou  hast  come  with  song  and  light  and  flowers, 

With  sunshine,  soft  blue  skies,  refreshing  showers. 

The  gushing  founts,  unfettered  now  and  free, 

Are  leaping  forth  in  all  their  merry  glee. 

The  brooks  again,  full  of  their  pleasing  tales, 

Go  tattling  on  through  newly  tiower'd  vales. 

The  grass  springs  forth,  all  bright  and  green  again, 

All  beautiful,  from  valley,  hill  and  plain. 

A  carpet  soft  for  mortal  feet  is  spread, 

All  decked  with  gems  in  colors  bright  arrayed. 

The  dandelion  rears  its  head  of  gold; 
The  violets  meek,  their  tiny  leaves  unfold. 
Forth  from  their  homes  the  merry  children  stray; 
New  treasures  find,  each  warm  and  sunny  day. 
The  herds  are  out  upon  the  verdant  hills, 
And  lambkins  sport  around  the  sparkling  rills. 

Again  the  woods  put  on  their  leafy  bloom, 
And  verdure  springs  from  last  year's  early  tomb. 
The  husbandman  resumes  his  welcome  toil, 
And  seeds  with  willing  hands  the  precious  soil. 
The  feathered  tribes,  O,  Spring,  return  with  thee; 
And  fill  the  air  with  their  sweet  minstrelsy. 


Sweet  is  the  song,  O,  sweet  the  matin  lay, 
Which  ushers  in  each  new,  succeeding  day ! 
Faith,  Hope  and  Joy,  expectant  now  arise, 
And  mingle  with  the  music  of  the  skies. f 
Welcome,  sweet  Spring,  in  all  thy  youthful  bloom, 
Thrice  welcome  in  thy  Nature's  happy  home.  ? 


Us  there  a  2Dap  without  a  HDorn? 

Is  there  a  day  without  a  morn  ? 
Is  there  a  rose  without  a  thorn  ? 
Is  there  a  hope  without  a  fear? 
Is  there  a  smile  without  a  tear? 

Is  there  a  night  without  an  end? 
Oh!  who  would  live  without  a  friend? 
Is  anyone  without  their  woes?— 
We  search  in  vain  for  a  thornless  rose. 

Is  there  a  bliss  without  a  sigh?_ 
O,  all  the  living,  sure,  must  die. 
Is  there  a  face  so  sweet  and  fair, 
But  leaves  a  trace  of  sorrow  there? 

O,  are  there  lips  but  what  have  pressed 
A  blessing  on  a  mother's  breast? 
O,  sad  the  heart  without  a  friend, 
X2)*'  life  immortal,  cannot  end.  - 

Late  Poem. 


77 


There's  beauty  in  the  blushing  morning, 

But  it  soon  fades  away. 
There's  beauty  in  the  lovely  evening, 

But  it  soon  fades  away.? 

There's  beauty  in  the  blooming  flower, 

But  it  soon  fades  away. 
There's  beauty  in  the  rainbow  shower, 

But  it  soon  fades  away,  f 

There's  beauty  on  the  sunlit  mountain, 

But  it  soon,,  fades  away. 
There's  beauty  in  the  sparkling  fountain, 

But  it  soon  fades  away.  * 

There's  beauty  in  the  flowing  river, 

But  it  sobn  fades  away. 
There's  beauty  in  the  leaves  that  quiver, 

But  it  soon  fades  away,  f 

There's  beauty  in  the  foaming  billows, 

But  it  soon  fades  away. 
There's  beauty  in  the  weeping  willows, 

But  it  soon  fades  away,  t 

There's  beauty  in  the  seasons  vernal, 

But  it  soon  fades  away. 
There's  beauty  in  things  eternal, 

But  it  soon  fades  away.  ? 

78 


There's  beauty  in  the  lovely  Springtime, 

But  it  soon  fades  away. 
There's  beauty  in  the  golden  Autumn, 

But  it  soon  fades  away.  tf 

There's  beauty  in  the  vernal  Summer, 

But  it  soon  fades  away. 
There's  beauty  in  the  hoary  Winter, 

But  it  soon  fades  away,  'i 

There's  beauty  in  our  early  childhood, 

But  it  soon  fades  away. 
There's  beauty  in  our  glorious  manhood, 

But  it  soon  fades  away,  f 

But  there  is  a  beauty  that  does  not  fade, 

'Tis  away  in  yonder  Heaven. 
On  the  Savior  our  burden  was  laid, 
His  life  for  us  was  given,  f 


79 


Spring  appears. 

'Neath  April's  genial  sky 
The  golden  sunbeams  lie, 
The  clouds  of  darkness  fly, 
And  beauty  reigns. 

The  Winter  winds  have  gone, 
On  wings  away  have  flown. 
No  more  their  tempest  tone 
Is  heard  around. 

The  buds  of  Spring-  appear, 
And  soon  will  blossom  here, 
The  heart  of  man  to  cheer. 
Nature  most  fair. 

For  'scaped  her  wint'ry  tomb, 
With  all  its  dismal  gloom. 
She  comes  in  youthful  bloom, 
And  sweetly  smiles. 

And  joy  and  hope  are  there, 
And  fill  the  balmy  air, 
With  incense  sweet  as  prayer, 
Then  rise  above. 

All  nature  sweetly  sings, 
And  claps  her  thousand  wings, 
Creation's  chorus  rings, 

And  tells  of  God.  f 

1844. 

80 


(Brant. 

The  war-clouds  had  gathered 
In  our  country's  sky ; 

&,e^e,  f^  ^CJfi    \s     «f    ' 

And  traitors  had  threatened 
To  ruin  or  die; 

Our  flag  had  insulted, 
And  trampled  in  dust; 

By  our  forefathers  bequeathed 
A  great,  sacred  trust. 


And  Sumpter  had  spoken, 

'Mid  flame  and  'mid  smoke, 
With  cannon's  loud  thunder, 
And  the  whole  land  awoke 

With  terror  and  with  anguish, 
With  fear  and  with  gloom; 

The  struggle  commenced, 
The  contest  had  come; 

And  the  blood  of  the  Union, 
Of  our  sons  and  our  sires, 

Was  kindled,  and  mingled 
In  the  battle's  fierce  fires. 

Bull  Run  was  enacted, 
With  its  hasty  retreat ; 

Then  followed  disaster, 
Dismay  and  defeat ; 

81 


Our  leaders  all  failed 

To  conquer  the  foe; 
And  the  Union  bewailed 

Its  heroes  laid  low. 

Then  Heaven  smiled  and  gave  us 

A  leader,  who  came 
To  the  front  of  the  battle, 

And  GRANT  was  his  name. 

Yes,  Heaven  smiled  and  gave  us 
Our  brave,  good  Ulysses, 

The  loyal  and  true; 
To  lead  us  and  save  us, 

With  the  boys  in  blue. 

How  he  planned,  how  he  fought 

The  foemen  so  well, 
Let  Henry  and  Donelson 

His  strategy  tell. 

Like  the  dawning  of  day 
O'er  the  darkness  of  night, 

So  our  hero  brought  forth 
The  morning  of  light. 

And  Vicksburg  and  Lookout, 
And  Mission's  red  flame, 

The -siege,  and  assault, 
Made  glorious  his  name. 

82 


In  the  Wilderness'  struggle, 
So  fierce  and  so  long, 

Where  Lee  with  his  army 
Was  posted  so  strong; 

And  where  the  wily  chieftain 
Thought  to  turn  him  back, 

Grant  battled  for  the  Union, 
Nor  lost  he  the  track. 

Like  the  children  of  Israel, 
In  the  wilderness  old. 

But  planned  in  the  darkness, 
And  as  a  lion  bold, 

In  the  morning  his  army 
Was  on  its  last  tramp, 

And  flanking  the  foe, 

Broke  ranks  in  his  camp. 

A  halo  of  glory 

Was  shining  around  him;  — 
And  Richmond  was  doomed, - 

The  last  siege  before  him.* 

He  came  in  the  darkness,  - 
He  ushered  in  the  day;  — 
He  rose  from  lowly  station,— 
He  led  to  save  the  Nation  ;- 
And  war  passed  away.  » 


83 


Campaign  Song. 

When  Treason  raised  its  monster  head, 

And  sought  to  rend  our  land  in  twain; 
Then  Freedom's  hosts  uprose,  and  said, 
Our  country  must,  and  shall  remain? 

Oh^  long  and  cruel  was  the  strife; 

Oceans  of  blood  and  treasure  flowed; 
To  save  for  us  the  Nation's  life, 

Imperiled  by  the  threat'ning  sword.? 

Defiant  first,  in  Congress  Halls; 

Then  Sumpter.  pierced, and  bleeding,  fell. 
Assailed  again  are  Freedom's  walls,— 

Oh,  brothers,  ponder  long  and  well.. 

The  dying  words  of  martyrs  heed^ 
The  admonitions  which  they  gave; 

Regardless  now  of  party  breed, 

Freemen,  be  loyal,  true  and  brave.. 

Think  of  the  fathers,  brothers,  lost; 

And  shall  the  struggle  come  again? 
Oh^God,  at  what  a  fearful  cost, 

Was  blotted  out  a  Nation's  shame  f 

Oh,  heed  the  lessons  of  the  past, 
The  warning  call,  ere  'tis  too  late; 

The  dark'ning  clouds  their  shadows  cast;— 
And  doom  or  glory  us  await,  f 


True  liberty  throughout  our  land^ 
And  blessed  peace  and  hope  abidej 

O,  ye  who  love  our  country,  grand. 
Guard  well  her  honor^and  her  pride. 

Like  deaf'ning  thunders  in  the  sky, 
Like  ocean's  surges  sweeping  roar* 


Shout  forth  the  loyal  battle  cry; 

Strike  wit 

I 'residential  Campaign,  1880. 


Strike  with  the  ballot's  mighty  power. « 


acrostic. 

SUSAN   C.  LOWKLL. 

Sweet  are  contentment's  peaceful  hours, 
Unmarked^  undimm'd  by  pain  or  care. 
Sweet,  sweet  as  Eden's  rosy  bowersi 
And  calm  as  evening-time  of  prayer. 
Not  honor,  glory,  fame,  or  wealth; 

Can  so  impart  the  bloom  of  health. 

Let  sweet  contentment,  then,  be  thine; 

O,  sister  dear, — 

Watch,  labor,  pray; 

Enter  the  straight  and  narrow  way. 

Live  so  thy  end  may  peaceful  be; 

Love  well  thy  God, —  remember  me. 


fleeter. 

What  kind  of  time  in  measuring-  rhyme, 

I  leave  it  out  to  Peter; 
In  sacred  song,  is  short  or  long, 

Mostly  in  use, — or  common  meter? 

There's  six,  and  seven,  ten,  and  eleven 
Meter;  helps  out  the  rhyming; 

But  light  the  wear,  upon  the  stair, 
Of  pilgrims  heavenward  climbing. 

There  is  a  kind  we  often  meet; 

Another,  found, —  of  joyful  sound. 
We  lay  the  crown  at  Jesus'  feet; 
Our  loud  hosannas  there  repeat  ; 
'Tis  hallelujah,  long  and  sweet. 

And  one  more  kind,  is  all;combined  ; 

'Tis  slower  or  'tis  fleeter,' 
And  changed  to  suit,  each  part,  not  mute, 

Of  every  form  and  feature. 
Makes  sad  our  songj  or  sweeter, — 

O,  bless  the  Lord,and  Peter? 


86 


June  {Training 

O,  how  I  loved  June  training  day, 
No  matter  what  the  weather; 

At  shriek  of  fife,  and  beating  drum, 
To  march  and  strut  together. 

Our  captain's  name,  of  world-wide  fame, 

Was  dear  old  Uncle  Simon ; 
And  long  or  short,  of  vague  report, 

Our  training  on  the  common. 

Upon  parade,  a  tall  cockade, 

An  awtul  gaudy  feather; 
Our  captain  wore,  six  hours  or  more^ 

No  matter  what  the  weather. 

At  nine  o'clock  that  blessed  day, 
O,  what  a  mighty  drumming; 

They  called  the  roll  of  every  soul, 
To  see  if  they  were  coming.  *»~ 

And  then  the  drill,  to  noon  until ; 

Of  that  dear  old  militia  ; 
They  shouldered  arms,  they  grounded  arms, 

Then  dinner,  smoke  —  tobacco*^ 

And  then,  full  stout^  they  strutted  out, 

To  finish  up  so  jollyj 
Then  home  away,  that  holiday, 

And  tea^with  Aunty  Polly.t 

April,  1894. 


Cbilfcboofc. 

'Tis  oft  backward  I  turn  my  eyes, 

Until  sweet  visions  crowding  come; 
Those  scenes  before  me  rise, 

Again  I'm  in  my  childhood's  home. 

Again  I  hear  my  mother's  voice, 

I  sit  upon  my  father's  knee; 
And  mine  again  those  little  toys 

I  treasured  in  rny  childish  glee. 

Brothers  and  sisters  there  I  meet, 

And  playmates  where  we  played  before ; 

O,  there's  no  place  on  earth  so  sweet, 
As  this  I  loved  so  much  of  yore. 

We  leave  again  our  own  dear  cot, 

When  Spring  returns  with  gentle  showers, 

And  wander  o'er  the  little  plot, 

And  cull  among  the  grass,  the  flowers. 

We  wander  by  the  pebbly  brook, 

And  pluck  the  flowers  that  sweetly  bloom, 
And  trace  with  care  each  shadowy  nook 

That  lies  around  our  pleasant  home. 

Again  we  tread  the  wildwood  free, 
In  Summer's  warm  and  genial  day, 

Where  singing  bird  and  busy  bee 
Flitter  and  hum  around  our  way. 

88 


Once  more  we  climb  the  hillside  steep, 
Where  lambkins  sport  by  sparkling  rills; 

Once  more  the  silver  cascade's  leap 
My  youthful  heart  with  rapture  fills. 

Down  in  the  mead  again  we  go, 

The  pond,  the  mill,  familiar  seem; 
The  shady  tree,  the  orchard,  too; 

The  bridge  that  crossed  our  own  loved  stream. 

At  eve,  a  happy  little  band, 

We  gathered  round  the  cheerful  hearth; 
We  talked  about  the  spirit  land, 

And  said  how  beautiful  is  earth. 

How  blissful  was  each  varying  scene, 

Sweet  flowers  beneath,  bright  stars  above, 

And  songs  of  merry  birds  between, 

The  gay,  green  earth^and  stars  we  loved. 

Oh,  happy  childhood,  back  to  thee 
I  look  through  years  of  joy  and  pain; 

And  fondly  trace  in  memory 

The  scenes  I  ne  cr  shall  see  again. 

Where  now  the  humble  little  cot 
Wherein  I  drew  my  infant  breath  ? 

Deserted,  lonely  and  forgot, 
And  as  the  house  of  Death. 

And  where  are  those  who  roamed  with  me 
The  wildwood  and  the  flowery  dell? 


They're  some  upon  the  broad,  blue  sea, 
And  some  to  earth  have  bid  farewell. 

I  wake  as  from  a  trance, £-  my  dreams, * 
The  brightness  of  thy  days  has  fled ; 

No  more  for  me  thy  golden  beams, 
No  more  among  thy  flowers  I  tread. 

Adieu,  I  bid  adieu  to  thee, 

While  sighs  my  heaving  bosom  swell, 
Farewell,  so  joyous,  bright  and  free, 

I  bid  thee  long  and  last  farewell.  ? 


for  Ht>am's  IRace. 

^<=  **- 

For  Adam's  race  of  sinful  man  , 
A  full  atonement  made  has  been; 
Sinners  by  him  we  all  were  mader 
On  us  his  sinful  nature  laid: 
To  him  we  trace  our  wretched  fall, 

And  each  are  cursed,  each   one^and  all ; 

»      •     *"" 
Yet  Jesus  Christ  a  ransoms  given,. 

That  we  may  dwell  at  last  in  Heav'n.^ 


Qf  in  "Retirement  anfc  Blonc. 

Q,  in  retirement  and  alone 

I'd  pass  my  time  away; 
Would  muse  on  Nature's  lovely  scenes 

While  la  pilgrim  stay. 

Would  pass  in  meditation  deep 

The  moments  as  they  fly; 
And  would  for  sake  of  poesy.? 

My  powers,,  unknown  try. 

I'd  gaze  on  scenes  of  beauty  rare, 
Would  study  Nature's  laws; 

Would,  musing,  try  to  trace  the  link 
Between  effect  and  cause. 

The  fields  of  Nature,  widely  spread, 

A  rich  repast  would  make; 
The  world  celestial,  and  the  spheres, 

Which  God  in  being  spake. 


The  golden  sun,  whose  vernal  rays, 

The  light  of  every  world, 
r*fft/weds  light  abroad,  and  by  our  God 

Was  into  chaos  hurled. 

The  Heavenly  spheres,  whose  rolling  might 

Eternal  in  their  course, 
Majestic  move,  —  to  us  proclaim, 

Their  never-ceasing  force. 

9' 


From  Heaven's  bright  arch  to  earth's  green  sod 

I'd  study  Nature  and  her  God; 

The  things  of  earth  that  ^pward  turn, 

The  things  of  Heaven  that  brightly  burn, 

All  things  in  sea,  in  earth  and  air, 

Proclaim  Almighty  Power  is  there.? 

|ulv,  1842. 


acrostic. 

BETSEY   JANE    LOWELL. 

Betsey,  be  good  to  your  father  and  mother, 
Especially  to  your  mother  be  kind ;    (t^.ffc*^ 

•$£•  t  c-&  +~ 

Take  pains  to  please  your  brother  and  sister, 
So  shall  you  have  peace  and  comfort  of  mind. 
Employ  thy  time  doing  well  —  eschew  evil; 
Your  sayings  and  doings  take  care  of. 

June  roses  are  sweet  and  yet  civil, 
And  remember  their  beauty  will  wear  off. 
Notwithstanding  you're  young  and  some  witty, 
Excuse  me,  for  it  was  a  slip  of  the  tongue, 

Lack  not  in  well  doing  your  duty, 

O,  no,  though  you  are  but  little  and  quite  young. 

What  a  jewel  is  true  friendship  !     Remember, 

Enduring,  and  ever  be  it  thine  to  share, 

Like  the  evergreen,  green  in  December, 

Like  the  live-forever,  green  everywhere. 

December,  1844. 


mountain  Ibome 

O,  as  fair  and  bright  as  Heaven's  gay  light 

Are  the  places  where  I  roam ; 
The  air  is  as  free  as  the  lightning's  glee 

Around  my  mountain  home. 

Around  my  mountain  home. 
The  air  is  as  free  as  the  lightning's  glee 

Around  my  own  dear  mountain  home. 

O,  I  love  to  dwell  in  the  quiet  dell, 

Where  the  wild-flowers  sweetly  bloom, 
Where  the  sparkling  rills  leap  down  from  the  hills 

Of  my  fairy  mountain  home. 

Of  my  fairy  mountain  home. 
Where  the  sparkling  rills  leap  down  from  the  hills 

Of  my  fairy  mountain  home. 

O,  the  eagle  may  fly  far  up  in  the  sky 

At  the  hour  of  midsummer's  noon; 
Yet  farther  I  soar  at  the  night's  starry  hour 

Within  my  silent  mountain  home. 

Within  my  silent  mountain  home. 
Yet  farther  I  soar  at  the  night's  starry  hour 

In  my  silent  mountain  home. 

Pub.  G.  M.  F.,  March,  1850. 


.93 


Where  Sball  tbe  poet  Jfinfc  a  £beme? 

Where  shall  the  poet  find  a  theme? 

In  fairy  tale^-in  pleasant  dream, 
In  bright- winged  clouds  of  angel  form. 

And  in  the  lightning,  in  the  storm. 

In  every  cup  of  sparkling  dew* 
In  every  rainbow's  blended  hue, 

In  sweetest,  blushing  rose  of  June, 
In  every  flower  of  sweet  perfume. 

O,  in  the  seasons  as  they  roll 

In  grandest  awe  from  pole  to  pole, 

In  youth*  in  age,  in  manhood's  prime, 
In  ringing  bells  of  sweetest  chime. 

In  river's  still,  majestic  flow. 

In  ocean's  caves,  its  waves  below, 

In  thought  that  soars  from  earth  away., 
Up  to  the  realms  of  endless  day. 

In  stars  that  glow  with  splendor  bright, 
And  crown  the  diademed  night. 

In  hope,  in  joy,  in  faith  sublime, 

That  soar  beyond  the  bounds  of  time.* 

April,  1894. 


94 


<S>ur  Xife  a  Bream. 

Our  life  is  but  a  dream. 
How  few  the  moments  seem, 
As  quickly  down  its  tide 
We  swiftly  onward  glide 
With  visions  on  our  way. 

We're  swiftly  passing  on, 
The  rolling  stream  upon, 
Where  clouds  in  anger  frown 
And  thunderbolts  come  down, 
We  dash,  we  dash  away. 

'Mid  storm  and  tempest  now, 
The  angry  Heavens  bow; 
Our  trembling  bosoms  heave, 
Our  hearts  with  sorrow  grieve, 
We  dash  the  tear  away. 

But  'tis  not  always  so, 
That  thus  we  onward  go, 
In  sorrow  and  in  grief, 
Without  a  kind  relief,— 
We've  pleasure  on  our  way. 

With  sunshine  and  with  bliss 
Beauty  the  skies  doth  kiss, 
And  all  serenely  bright^ 
Us  on  our  journey  light, 
Make  light  our  toilsome  way. 

95 


And  so  it  is  with  us— 

Sometimes  bless,  sometimes  worse; 

We're  all  upon  the  tide 

Of  life,  and  swiftly  glide 

Away,  away,  away.£ 


Can  we  forget  the  men  of  old 

Who  raised  the  battle-cry, 
Who  with  prophetic  eyCj  foretold 

Triumph  ofjiberty? 

Can  we  forget  our  soldiers  dead, 
Who  for  then-Jiome  and  country  died  ? 

Can  we  forget  our  Lincoln's  fall, 
Our  greatest,  noblest  martyr  slain  — 
The  darkest  crime. — darkest  of  all* 
That  can  a  nation's  record  stain  ?f/ 

There  love  her  golden  harp  shall  take 
And  chant  immortal  lays, 
Shall  bid  each  joyful  tongue  awake 
To  join  the  general  praise. 


£be  Goto,  Gbill  fmtrt  of  2>eatb. 

The  cold,  chill  hand  of  death 

Is  resting  on  thy  brow, 
And  from  the  scenes  of  this  vain  earth 

Thy  spirit's  passing  now. 

And  now  the  purple  tide 
Of  life  has  ceased  to  flow, 

No  more  to  give  to  manhood's  pride 
A  rich  and  crimson  glow. 

Unto  the  Spirit  Land 

Thy  soul  did  take  its  flight, 

While  gathered  here  we  mournful  stand, 
Still  bless'd  with  heavenly  light. 

Now  in  the  silent  tomb 
We  lay  thee  down  to  rest, 

While  we  remain,  and  pain  and  gloom 
Dwell  in  our  aching  breast. 

O,  God!  on  Thee  we  call, 
And  ask  for  grace  divine ; 

O,  bless  us  now,  each  one  and  all, 
And  make  us  wholly  thine. 

And  may  we  see  and  feel 
Thou  doest  all  things  right; 

Our  sins  forgive,  our  pardon  seal, 
And  keep  us  by  thy  might. 

Lines  composed  on  the  death  of  a  young  man  in  Milford,  Mass.,  1842. 

97 


County  in  IRbpme. 

Tis  but  of  late  the  Red  Man  trod 
Among  her  wildflow'rs  in  their  bloom, 
And  swiftly  o'er  her  virgin  sod 
The  deer  was  chased  and  met  his  doom, 
By  warrior  brave  and  Indian  boy, 
Along  the  shores  of  Illinois. 

Winnebago  county  on  the  north, 
And  Stevenson  about  one -fourth, 
DeKalb  js  east, —  on  south  is  Lee, 
Carroll  on  western  bound  we  see. 

Rock  River  runs  meandering  through, 
Makes  equal,  east,  and  west  sides^too; 
Southwesterly  its  course  is  seen; 
Prairies,  woodlands/ and  hills  between. 

Seven  towns  the  river  lays  along. 
The  county  seat  is  Oregon. 
Historic  names  appear  to  view, 
We've  Lafayette  and  Taylor,  too. 

On  east  side,  north,-Scott  and  Monroe, 
And  Marion  northeast  we  show ; 
Byron  on  west  side,  Northline,  planned, 
And  Maryland,  our  Maryland." 

White  Rock,  Linnville,  Flag  and  Dement, 
Southeast,  help  fill  the  complement, 

98 


Except  Pine  Rock  and  Nashua, 
On  east  side,  which  together  lay. 

Leaf  River,  Foreston  and  Brookville, 
North  and  northwest,  west  side  we  hail, 
Eagle  Point,  Pine  Creek  and  Buffalo 
Are  in  the  southwest  part,  we  know. 


Rockvale,  Mount  Harris^  and  Haldan\e 
Come  in  between  with  one  new  name; 
The  roll's  complete  with  Grand  Detour, 
Making  in  all  just  twenty  -four./ 

E.  R.  Morse. 


Cboice. 

O,  young  and  fair  was  that  maiden  rare, 

And  her  joyous  spirit  free 
As  the  winds  that  roam  'round  her  mountain  home, 

While  sporting  in  their  glee. 

And  before  her  lay,  in  bright  array, 

The  path  in  which  she  trod, 
While  the  flowers  sweet,  beneath  her  feet, 

Led  her  thoughts  ofttimes  to  God. 

Make  me  your  choice,  said  a  small,  still  voice, 

Twas  the  blessed  Savior's  call, 
I  am  the  light,  the  truth  and  the  life, 

And  the  way  to  Heaven  for  all. 

Give  thy  heart  to  me  and  I  will  be 

Thy  guardian  and  thy  friend, 
While  life  shall  last,  and  when  it  is  past, 

Thy  joys  shall  never  end. 

Then  the  Tempter  came  and  laid  a  claim 

To  that  jewel  bright  and  rare; 
Maiden,  said  he,  follow  thou  me, 

For  the  world  is  bright  and  fair. 

Thy  pulse  beats  strong,  thy  life  will  be  long, 

Sweet  pleasures  crown  thy  way; 
Heed  not  that  voice,  make  me  your  choice. 

O,  come  thou  with  me  away. 


IOO 


And  thus  she  strove,  with  a  creature  love, 

Against  the  Savior's  charms; 
And  the  things  of  earth,  of  meaner  worth, 

She  clasped  within  her  arms. 

Then  the  Savior  said,  be  not  afraid, 

For  I  bled  and  died  for  thee ; 
Now  come  to  me,  come,  in  thy  youthful  bloom, 

And  from  all  thy  sins  be  free. 

This  pearl  behold,  nor  shining  gold 

Nor  earthly  gem  can  vie, 
Treasure  divine,  make  it  thou  thine, 

Wilt  thou  not  not  come  and  buy  ? 

One  thing  I  ask,  a  humble  task 

Is  it  for  thee  to  do, 
Give  me  thy  heart  and  I  will  impart 

This  treasure  unto  you. 

Then  the  maiden  sought  with  all  her  heart 

The  pearl  of  greatest  price. 
And  ever  has  been  contented  since  then 

With  her  high  and  happy  choice. 

Published  in  Vermont  Christian  Messenger,  March  26,  1854. 


101 


lit  is  a  Shame. 

It  is  a  shame 
My  countrymen,  world-wide  and  dark,  that  we, 

With  all  our  boastings,  are  not  free; 

jr<2.  C£  «•<—  s 
Our  cg.yjjtry  deals  in  human  liesh  and  blood, 

And  tramples  on  the  image  of  our  God. 
Who  is  to  blame? 

It  is  a  shame 

The  fairest  portion  of  our  favored  land 
Should  wither  'neath  th'  oppressor's  iron  hand, 
A  with'ring  curse,  and  evil  is  the  hour, 
Which  gives  to  Slavery  th'  reins  of  pow'r 

In  Freedom's  name. 

It  is  a  shame 

The  dark-hued  African  is  doomed  to  toil 
And  till  for  naught,  himself  the  spoiler's  spoil, 
While  white  men  revel  and  bless  ofttimes  the  laws 
Which  statesmen  make  for  boasted  Freedom's  cause, 

Though  poor  and  lame. 

It  is  a  shame 

Our  patriotic  Congressmen  yet  meet 
To  make  our  laws  where  Slavery  holds  her  scat, 
And  then  unto  their  fettered  brethren  tell 
Of  liberty, —  boast  that  they  love  it  well. 

Always  the  same. 


It  is  a  shame 

For  northern  freeman  to  quail  and  cower 
At  Slavery's  threat,  oppression's  boasted  pow'r; 
It  is  a  shame  to  boast  of  liberty 
While  we  ourselves  uphold  dark  slavery. 

We  are  to  blame. 


Gbe  Ibeavens  Gbp  power  proclaim, 

The  heavens  thy  power  proclaim, 
The  stars,  a  shining  flame, 
Shed  forth  their  brilliant  light, 
Beaming  with  beauty  bright. 

A  thousand  orbs  that  shine, 
The  starry  heavens  line  ; 
And  moon,  the  queen  of  night, 
That  blesses  us  with  light. 

The  great  and  brilliant  sun, 
That  great  and  mighty  one, 
The  light  of  every  world, 
Thou  into  chaos  hurled.' 

Around  which  all  things  move, 
Thy  power  and  wisdom  prove, 
Speak  thy  wisdom,  prove  thy  power 
Every  moment,  every  hour.  £ 


Come,  Blooming  Ibealtb. 

Come,  blooming  health,  go  thou  with  me, 
The  far  and  lovely  West  to  see; 
Bright  hopes  attend,— ye  prospects  fair 
Around  me  smile — the  way  prepare. 

Farewell  my  home,  'mong  hills  enshrined, 
Oft  fanned  by  breeze  of  mountain  wind; 
Adieu !  kind  friends,  ye  sainted  dead 
Who  in  the  grave  I  mournful  laid. 

But  let  me  drop  once  more  a  tear, 
O'er  dust  I  held  in  life  so  dear; 
And,  kneeling  on  the  sacred  sod, 
Invoke  the  blessing  of  my  God. 

And  now  I  go — leave  all  behind, 
Friends  still,  and  those  to  dust  confined; 
Adieu,  New  England's  mountains  green, 
And  hills  and  vales  smiling  between. 

What  glorious  skies!  what  balmy  airs! 
What  wide-spread  scenes  compared  to  theirs. 
Here  blooming  nature  smiles  around, 
And  says  thy  Paradise  is  found. 

Go  forth  in  all  thy  manhood's  prime, 
And  reap  the  fruits  of  this  fair  clime; 
Go,  view  the  wilderness  in  bloom, 
And  find  perchance,  an  early  tomb. 

104 


Ah  yes,  the  grave  may  wait  him  there, 
Stern  death  may  bid  him  soon  prepare. 
His  mandate's  call  none  can  defer, 
O,  who  can  stay  the  Conqueror? 

Or  beauteous  nature  may  prolong 
This  threaded  life,  and  make  it  strong, 
Through  mercy's  door,  at  God's  behest, 
In  all  her  blooming  beauties  drest. 

Vet  no  prophetic  eye  can  know, 
The  future,— or  its  pages  scan ; 
And  thus  it  is  with  all  below,— 
Nor  can  we  know  the  end  of  man. 

In  letter  to  J.  K., -November  19,  1846. 


105 


Gbristian. 

My  work  below  which  I  begun 
Some  years  ago,  is  nearly  done, 
And  now  I  go  to  see  the  Son. 
All  is  well. 

I  go  to  where  my  Savior  reigns, 
For  he  has  washed  my  sinful  stains, 
And  heav'n  prepaid  with  groans  and  pains. 
All  is  well. 

I've  labored  long,  my  labor's  o'er; 
I've  suffered  wrong,  but  will  no  more; 
I  catch  the  song  of  heaven's  shore- 
All  is  well. 

Come,  friends,  and  see  a  Christian  die, 
Come  see  him  close  the  weary  eye, 
Come  and  bid  us  last  good-bye. 
All  is  well. 

Come,  parents  dear,  give  me  your  hand; 
Come  brothers  near,  why  far-off  stand? 
O,  dry  your  tears,  ye  sister  band,— 
All  is  well. 

Weep  not  for  me,  no,  dry  your  tears; 
The  king  of  terrors  has  no  fears, 
Nor  shall  he  through  th'  eternal  years. 
All  is  well. 

io5 


Weep  not  for  me  when  I  am  gone, 
But  cheerful  be  still  journeying  on, 
Till  victory  you  all  have  won. 
All  is  well. 

And  wandering  sinner  come  and  see 
The  heav'n  prepared  for  you  and  me, 
And  happy  be  eternally. 
All  is  well. 

0  glory,  glory!  in  my  soul, 
Salvation's  waves  now  o'er  me  roll, 
And  make  my  panting  spirit  whole. 

All  is  well. 

My  lasting  home,  in  heav'n,  bright  heav'n, 
Jesus  a  pledge  has  surely  giv'n; 

1  know  my  sins  are  all  forgiv'n. 

All  is  well. 

Farewell,  farewell!     My  friends,  farewell! 
I  go  away  in  heaven  to  dwell ; 
No  more  to  sigh,  or  say  farewell. 
All  is  well. 

December,  1844. 


107 


H  Dcrmont  Snow  Storm. 

The  storm  breaks  forth  with  fury  now, 

And  swiftly  falls  the  snow 
Upon  the  mountain's  cloud-top'd  brow, 

And  all  around  below. 

The  virgin  snow  comes  whirling  down 

Fiercely  from  clouds  above, 
That,  lowering  darkly,  madly  frown,— 

Tempestuously  move. 

With  mantle  white,  old  mother  earth 
Is  now  most  nicely  covered; 

While  dances  round  with  breezy  mirth 
That  which  o'er  her  hovered. 

The  blanket  that  has  on  us  come, 
A  full  foot  and  three  inches, 

Closely  keeps  some  denn'd  up  at  home, 
Most  quiet  in  their  trenches. 

Old  Boreas  on  the  scene  appears, 

And  howling  comes  along; 
He  takes  us  by  the  nose  and  ears 

While  blowing  out  his  song. 

Cuts  up  his  shines,  and  whirls  about, 

As  if  he  did  not  care, 
And  roaring,  blustering,  most  stout, 

And  strides,  Oh,  everywhere.? 

1 08 


But  stop  and  look,  there  shines  the  sun; 

In  your  career  now  stop. 
And  now  my  tale,  but  just  begun, 

It'll  end,  and  off  I'll  pop.  ? 

On  advent  of  a  heavy  snow  storm,  Feb.  18,  1842,  Brookfield,  Yt. 


Harken,  O,  youth^thou  hast  riches  greater 
Than  earth  can  bestow/-and  hidden  treasures 
More  precious  than  gold;-and  thine  is  a  gem 
Brighter,  more  lustrous  and  of  greater  worth., 
Than  all  the  gems  that  deck  an  earthly  crown.? 

These  riches  are  the  fountains  of  thy  heart> 
These  treasures  are  the  well-springs  of  thy  joy; 
And  that  gem, —  it  is  thy  immortal  soul. ' 

Then  wander  not—but  walk  in  wisdom's  ways; 
Enrich  thy  mindradd  to  thy  treasures. 
Beautify  thy  own,~adorn  it  daily,— 
That  gemra  germ  of  immortality.; 

109 


<Xbe  flDoon. 

Ah!  bright-eyed  moon,  thou  queen  of  night, 
Shedding  thy  mild  and  radiant  light 
'Mid  your  bright  stars  that  glowing  shine 
And  kiss  each  other  at  thy  shrine, 
Shed  now  thy  light  o'er  all  the  scene, 
While  Nature's  dressed  in  lovely  green, 
And  on  the  slumbers  of  the  night 
Bless  thou  my  longing,  raptured  sight. 

Yes,  while  deep  is  locked  in  slumber 
Living  things  of  countless  number, 
And  all  creation  sweetly  sleeps, 
With  dewy  tears,  unconscious,  weeps, 
By  thy  soft  light  I'll  steal  away, 
And  humbly  kneeling,  tribute  pay, 
While  thy  bright  beams  alike  are  shed 
O'er  slumbering  life  and  sleeping  dead. 

Ah!  lovely  is  thy  borrowed  light, 

Which  thou  dost  shed  o'er  Nature's  night, 

Kissing  the  tears  of  grief  away, 

And  speaking  joy  in  every  ray. 

How  oft  from  worldly  care  I  rove, 

To  meet  the  smiles  I  so  much  love, 

To  muse  in  silence  and  alone, 

And  weep  the  world  so  cold  has  grown, 

Aware  that  sorrow  finds  a  friend, 

In  every  charm  thy  graces  lend. 


'Tis  holy,  blessed  and  divine, 
Tis  heavenly,  bright  and  fair, 
To  greet  a  face  kindly  as  thine, 
Smiling  on  midnight's  balmy  air, 
Chasing  the  gloom  of  Nature's  night 
Beyond  the  realm  of  beaming  light. 

My  counselor  in  bygone  years, 

Beholder  of  unfailing  tears, 

Thou  witnesser  of  inward  grief, 

Oft  hast  thou  brought  me  sweet  relief; 

Sweeter  by  far  than  human  tone, 

Thy  sweet  and  soothing  voice  alone. 

While  bygone  centuries  have  slept, 
Nightly  thy  watchings  thou  hast  kept, 
Hast  shed  thy  light  on  every  shore, 
Where  waters  great  and  mighty  roar; 
On  meadows,  fields,  and  woods  and  hills, 
On  cloud-top'd  mounts,  o.i  gushing  rills, 
On  briny  ocean's  mighty  deep 
Thy  nightly  vigils  thou  dost  keep, 
Whose  bright  blue  waves  eternal  roll, 
And  mix  the  center  with  the  Pole. 

Ah!  now  thy  beams  in  gentle  waves 
Do  shed  mild  light  o'er  nameless  graves, 
O'er  beggar'd  heads  and  mouldering  kings, 
Now  thy  proud  arch  its  beauty  flings. 


And  when  o'er  me  death  flings  his  pall, 
When  hushed  in  silence,  mute  is  all, 
Then  mourner,  pale  shall  thy  soft  light 
Beam  o'er  my    grave  in  silent  night, 

Shall  kiss  the  place  where  'neath  I  lay, 
And  shall  the  debt  of  tribute  pay;_ 
A  friend  indeed  to  each  and  all., 
Who  dwell  on  this  terrestrial  ball. 5 


acrostic. 

ORRA   LAPORTE. 

O,  phrenology,  thou  twin  sister  of 
Religion,  when  will  the  world  of  mankind 
Receive  thee  as  such, — know  thee  as  thou  art, 
And  learn  from  all  thy  teachings  to  do  well? 

Luther's  name  ornaments  the  historic  page, 
And  as  long  as  Christianity  lives 
Points  to  the  Reformation,  so  the  name 
Of  Gall  shall  not  be  forgotten  ever, 
Recorded  bright  on  time's  annals,  shall  not 
Tarnish,  but  always  shine  a  brilliant  star 
Europe  bore,  but  may  the  world  receive  thee. 

December,  1842. 


parting  1bour. 

The  parting  hour,  it  soon  will  come, 
When  we  no  more  shall  meet 

Within  these  walls,  as  oft  we've  done, 
Our  lessons  to  repeat. 

We,  who  have  passed  our  time  away 

In  study,  and  in  thought; 
We  who  have  labored  night  and  day, 

And  faithfully  have  sought— 

For  what  we  came  here  to  obtain, 
We  soon,  we  soon  must  part; 

Few  fleeting  moments  yet  remain, 
To  bless  each  throbbing  heart. 

The  tolling  bell,  which  brings  us  here 
To  meet  at  hour  of  prayer, 

No  more*^~^1**"**1**'  and  clean 
No  more  to  us  *^*smile  or  tear. 


We  oft  have  met,  but  nevermore 

Together  all  shall  be, 
While  we  are  travelers  on  this  shore 

To  vast  eternity. 

The  time  has  come  ;  farewell  !  we  part, 

And  bid  a  kind  adieu; 
We  go,  each  youthful,  throbbing  heart, 

Our  homes  again  to  view. 

Xewberry  Seminary,  1841.     Winter  Term. 

"3 


Gafce  Hbe  Bible  Jfor  |?our  (BuiDc. 

Take  the  Bible  for  your  guide, 
Ye  young  and  fair  in  beauty's  pride, 
A  garland  wreathing  on  your  brow, 
The  Book  of  Books,  O,  read  it  no\v. 

You're  in  the  slippery  paths  of  youth, 
And  need  be  guided  by  its  truth; 
O,  search  it  then  with  constant  care. 
And  God  will  own  and  bless  your  prayer. 

Ten  thousand  snares  lie  in  your  way 
To  draw,  entice  and  lead  astray; 
The  tempter,  arch,  the  world  begin, 

/»~  ?'<'£*    »»— ~-f  Afi-^-w*^ 

In  lifers,  seea-time,  young  hearts  to  win. 

The  sea  of  life  is  full  of  shoals, 
And  wave  on  wave  in  fury  rolls, 
And  tempest-toss'd,  the  bark  is  riven, 
Unless  its  holy  light  is  given. 

Like  fragrant  flowers  you  now  may  bloom, 
Yet  find  with  them  an  early  tomb. 
O,  then,  how  sweet  to  yield  the  breath, 
When  full  of  love,  no  sting  has  death. 

Take  the  Bible  for  your  guide, 
Ye  young  and  fair  in  beauty's  pride; 
To  God,  your  Maker,  humbly  bow, 
The  Book  of  Books.  O,  read  it  now. 


114 


>,  Softlp 

MKMOK1AL    HYMN. 

Q,  lightly,  softly  tread^ 

The  nation  mourns  to-day, 

Its  brave,  heroic  dead, 

While  we  our  tribute  pay.  ? 

Come,  bow  the  head  and  heart, 
Stretch  forth  the  friendly  handj 

O,*'  peaceful  be  their  sleep 
Who  died  to  save  our  land.? 

Of  strew  ye  flowers,  sweet  flowers, 
And  let  their  fragrance  rise, 

In  these  sublimest  hours^ 
Like  incense  to  the  skies.  1 

Let  fall  the  pensive  tear, 

And  yearn  each  sorrowing  heart,; 
A  stricken  band  takes  here 

With  each  and  all  a  part.^ 


Q¥  Freedom,  look  and 
Here  is  thine  altar  found; 

The  living^and  the  dead 

Meet  on  this  hallow'd  ground^— 

And  swear  through  blood  and  tears^ 
To  guard  with  faithful  hand, 

Through  all  the  coming  years, 

j, 

Our  great,  our  glorious  land.: 
"5 


©n  tbe  2>eatb  of  ZEorrep. 

The  martyr's  gone  in  manhood's  prime, 

His  work  on  earth  is  done, 
He's  gone  to  dwell  in  Freedom's  clime, 

His  crown  of  glory  won. 

Oppression  could  not  let  him  stay 

In  this  slave  land  of  ours, 
Yet  calmly  went  he  on  his  way, 

Defying  all  its  pow'rs. 

For  God  was  his  in  that  lone  cell, 
The  mighty  and  the  strong, 

And  said  to  him:  "All  shall  be  well, 
And  I'll  avenge  thy  wrong." 

And  lo!  the  prison  bars  are  burst, 

The  captive  now  is  free; 
In  God  he  put  his  only  trust, 

The  God  of  liberty. 

He  saw,  he  felt  his  brother's  woe, 
His  brother  bound  in  chains, 

He  acted  for  that  brother,  too, 
And  suffer'd  martyr's  pains. 

O,  noble,  heav'n-born  melting  love, 

That  thus  could  sacrifice 
That  noble  heart,  — thus  cause  it  weep, 

Thus  sever  earthly  ties. 

116 


Would  that  its  fires  might  kindle  ours, 

And  fan  a  heavenly  flame, 
Till  all  our  higher,  nobler  pow'rs 

Were  glowing  with  the  same. 

The  martyr's  gone  in  manhood's  prime, 

His  work  on  earth  is  done; 
He's  gone  to  dwell  in  Freedom's  clime, 

His  crown  of  glory  won. 

embL  achis  fall  ^ 
fv\i~<~~<i  .    J*  '£**  o6ame; 
Say  not  he  sleeps  beneath  the  pall. 
Immortal  is  his  name. 

And  dearer  far  to  Freedom's  sons, 

Than  riches  bought  with  blood, 
Shall  shine  forever  bright  among 

The  jewels  of  his  God.  £ 

Published  in  the  Green  Mountain  "  Freeman,"  July  16,  1846.  Torrey  was 
imprisoned  for  aiding  or  abetting  slaves  to  escape  from  their  masters,  in  Mary 
land  I  think,  and  a  little  while  before  the  Fugitive  Slave  Law  was  passed. 

— E.  R.  M. 


117 


a  XiQbt  is  on  tbc  flDountains. 

A  light  is  on  the  mountains; 

Along  the  mountains  green 
The  holy  fires  of  Freedom 

Send  forth  a  radiant  gleam. 

And  soon  the  fanning  breezes 
Shall  cause  them  brighter  glow, 

Till  light  like  golden  sunshine 
Is  flooding  all  below. 

Till  every  nook  and  corner 
Is  filled  with  beamy  light, 

And  all  enlightened  freemen 
Are  acting  in  the  right. 

Long  had  their  fires  been  burning, 
These  beacon  lights  of  old, 

Yet  dimly  had  they  slumbered, 
Till  they  were  getting  cold. 

But  now  the  breeze  has  rous'd  them, 
The  breezes  brisk  at  play, 

And  brightly  they  are  glowing, 
The  fires  of  liberty. 

Ho !  every  one  to  battle, 
Come  at  your  country's  call, 

118 


Your  armor  girded  tightly, 
Come  to  the  rescue  all. 

Gather  from  hill  and  valley 
Around  our  mountain  fires, 

And  let  your  bosoms  catch  it, 
As  did  our  goodly  sires. 

The  spirit  of  our  fathers 
Awake  within  our  breast; 

How  can  we  longer  slumber 
While  millions  are  oppressed? 

Come  all  ye  honest  freemen, 
A  strong  and  mighty  band, 

Lift  up  your  trumpet  voices 
To  save  a  guilty  land. 

A  mighty  work's  before  us, 

A  mighty  work  to  do; 
Then  let  us  not  prove  traitors, 

But  freemen  bold  and  true. 

Let  no  one  shrink  from  duty, 
But  grapple  with  the  foe; 

The  groaning  of  the  victims 
Comes  from  the  land  of  woe. 

Ye  mountain  fires  grow  brighter, 

Intenser,  till  the  day 
When  routed  is  the  monster, 

And  driven  far  away. 

119 


And  longer, — burn  forever, 
As  long  as  time  endure, 

When  each  and  all  shall  slumber, 
Then  burn  ye  bright  and  pure. 


Calvary 

With  sorrows  and  with  grief  look  up, 

And  see  the  Savior  there; 
He  meekly  takes  the  bitter  cup, 

Its  bitterness  to  share.f 

On  Calvary's  rugged,  lonely  bro\v 
'Twixt  Heaven  and  earth  we  see, 

Nailed  to  the  cross,  the  Savior  now 
Writhing  in  agony.  1 

His  time  has  come?  the  time  of  deatly— 

And  for  a  world  he  dies. 
Unto  the  Godhead, yields  his  breath, 

As  on  the  cross  he  lies. ; 

No  wonder  then  the  earth  did  quake, 

Like  mighty  billows  roll; 
The  marble  rend,  the  mountains  shake, 

And  groan  from  pole  to  pole. 


120 


flDount  pulasfci. 

Pulaski,  Pulaski,  on  thy  summit  I  stand, 
With  pencil  and  paper  just  now  in  my  hand; 
My  eye  it  is  gazing-  on  the  scenery  below, 
The  pretty  little  villa,  the  river's  still  flow.- 

In  quiet  and  grandeur  it  gently  reposes, 

All  lovely  and  blooming,  its  beauty  discloses ; 

The  churches  and  their  spires  and  the  houses  so  neat, 

Of  this  pretty  little  villa  are  spread  at  my  feet. 

Connecticut  is  winding,  majestic  and  slow, 
Her  waters  are  peaceful,  to  the  ocean  they  go, 
Through  rich  meadows  and  fields,  in  the  valleys  beneath, 
Now  flow'rs  are  blooming  for  a  mantle  and  wreath. 

The  mountains  of  New  Hampshire  are  lifting  their  heads 
To  clouds  that  seem  making  on  their  summits  their  beds, 
Which,  rolling  in  darkness  all  along  their  blue  tops, 
Heaven's  dews  are  distilling  in  the  blessed  dewdrops. 

The  wind  it  blows  chilly  and  the  rain  it  descends, 

So  no  more,  my  dear  Willie — my  description  it  ends; 

Pulaski,  farewell,  and  this  favorite  bow'r, 

Where  I've  spent,  I  can't  tell,  perhaps  a  half  hour.. 

Pulaski  Mountain,  in  Newberry,  Vermont.     1841. 


Mill  not  Xet  (Them  60. 

They  will  not  let  them  go/ 
But  hold  their  brothers  with  an  iron  hand, 
In  boasted  freedom's  fair  and  happy  land, 

Where  all  should  freedom  know.: 

Proud  name  our  country  bears, 
Abroad,  amon^  the  nations  of  the  world  • 

cr>  •* 

In  every  clime  her  starry  flag's  unfurled, 
Yet  this  foul  stain  she  wears.? 

Three  million  servile  slaves  '/ 
Alas!  sad  spectacle^  oh,  let  us  weep 
For  this  great  wrong, —  that  justice  yet  doth  sleep., 

Where  freedom's  banner  waves.t 

They  will  not  let  them  go,  - 
But  still  their  toil, and  tend'rest  ties  devour; 
Blind  to  their  doom, —  to  that  approaching  hour, 

Which  brings  their  overthrow.f 

And  yet  their  cry  goes  up,~ 

While  every  tear  their  greatest  want  makes  known, 
And  every  sigh, reaches  their  Father's  throne, 

To  fill  the  vengeful  cup./ 

Aye,  every  breath  they  draw, 
While  bowing  to  the  master's  servile  rod, 
Is  fraught  with  prayer,  ascending  up  to  God 

To  plead  his  righteous  law..? 

One  of  the  best.     Composed  1852. 


122 


a  Brighter  3>a\>  is  Dawning. 

A  brighter  day  is  dawning, 
And  soon  it  will  appear, 

When  freedom's  hosts  will  rally, 
Then  be  of  good  cheer. 

I  hear  the  notes  of  warning, 
They  echo  through  the  land, 

From  Maine's  ice-girted  harbors 
To  Georgia's  burning  sand. 

The  people  are  awaking 
From  their  lethargic  sleep; 

They  hear  the  sighing  bondman, 
Their  brothers  groan  and  weep. 

For  freedom  hath  her  altars, 
And  on  them  burning  fires, 

The  spirits  of  our  fathers, 
Our  noble,  daring  sires. 

And  hands  and  hearts  are  willing 

To  battle  for  the  right, 
To  break  the  galling  fetters, 

And  bless  our  land  with  light. 

Haste,  haste  thy  glorious  beaming-, 
My  country's  rising  star, 

Millions  behold  thy  gleaming, 
Come,  lead  the  hosts  to  war. 

123 


Marshal  thy  army,  Freedom ; 

The  contest  may  be  long, 
But  right  must  triumph  over  might, 

And  loose  the  palsied  tongue 

Then  on  to  victory, 

The  battle  has  begun, 
'Tis  liberty  or  slavery, 

We'll  fight  till  we  have  won. 

A  mighty  work's  before  us, 

A  valiant  work  to  do  ; 
Then  let  us  not  prove  traitors, 

But  freemen  bold  and  true. 

Let  no  one  shrink  from  duty, 
But  grapple  with  the  foe; 

The  wailings  of  the  victims 
Are  full  of  pain  and  woe. 

Ye  mountain  fires,  grow  brighter, 

Intenser,  till  the  day 
When  routed  is  the  monster, 

And  vanquished  far  away. 

Ah!  longer,  burn  forever, 
As  long  as  time  endure,* 

When  all  the  living  slumber, 
Then  burn  ye  bright  and  pure. 

124 


Winter  is  1bere. 

O,  bright  was  the  spring-time,  when  gladness  and  mirth, 
Awoke  from  their  slumbers  to  hail  the  green  year; 

When  beauty  came  forth,  to  mantle  the  earth 
In  bloom, —  but  'tis  past» — old  Winter  is  here. 

Yes,  all  the  sweet  flowers, of  Summer  have  gone. 

And  the  music  we  loved  now  no  longer  we  hear; 
The  minstrels  of  nature>  Oh!  they  too  have  flown, 

Nor  lingered  to  welcome  old  Winter,  so  drear. 

And  Autumn,  it  came  with  its  glittering  sheen 
And  painted  the  woodlands  all  yellow  and  sere ; 

Their  beauty  and  glory  no  longer  are  seen, 
They're  faded  and  gone,  old  Winter  is  here. 

The  snow-mantled  earth  is  cheerless  and  cold, 
Old  Boreas  is  raving, — the  prospect,  how  drear! 

The  storm-clouds  are  out,  as  often  of  old, 
And  all  things  around  us  say  Winter  is  here. 

He  comes  o'er  the  mountain,  he  comes  o'er  the  lake, 
On  hill  tops,  in  valleys,  his  footsteps  appear; 

The  poor  and  the  needy  a  wailing  will  make, 
For  Winter,  stern  Winter,  old  Winter,  is  here. 

Published,  G.  M.  F.,  Jan.  23,  1851. 


125 


©,  Gbou 

O,  thou  Almighty  King, 
Help  me  thy  name  to  sing, 
Thy  holiness  to  bless, 
For  this,  thy  righteousness. 

Thou  dost  in  Heaven  proclaim, 
Almighty  is  thy  name, 
On  earth  thou  dost  impart 
This  feeling  to  the  heart. 

Before  thee  princes  bow 
And  humbly  pay  the  vow; 
All  things  do  to  thee  bend, 
To  thee  their  praises  tend. 

Thou  rulest  in  heaven  and  earth, 
All  things  thou  gavest  birth: 
Earth,  air,  and  sea  and  main, 
Respond  and  shout  again. 

A  thousand  orbs  that  shine 
The  starry  heaven's  line; 
The  moon,  the  queen  of  night, 
That  blesses  us  with  light. 

The  great  and  brilliant  sun, 
That  bright  and  mighty  one, 
The  light  of  every  world, 
Tliou  into  chaos  hurled. 

126 


Around  which  all  things  move, 
Thy  power  and  wisdom  prove. — 
Hosannahs  sweet  and  loud,— 
He  set  the  rainbow  in  the  cloud? 


Ibope. 

Of  thee  I.  sing,  how  bright  a  thing, 
Clothed  with  thy  own  appareling; 
It  chases  gloom  beyond  the  tomb, 
While  on  earth  we're  traveling. 

Oh!  while  our  bark  is  tempest  driv'n, 
It  points  to  us  the  way  to  Heav'n, 
It  lights  the  way  'mong  rocks  and  shoals. 
Where  billow  after  billow  rolls. 

Shedding  its  light  upon  the  road, 
Is  pointing  heavenward^and  to  God. 


(Bcms. 

Gems  there  are  of  heavenly  birth,— 
Glittering  'mong  the  dross  of  earth,- 
Gems  of  almost  priceless  worth,— 
Dazzling  bright,  of  richest  hue,  — 
Beneath  the  vast  etherial  blue,  - 
And  loving  hearts  forever  true,  - 
Blessing  the  Gentile  and  the  Jew? 

127 


PityrO/'tis  a  melting  word, 

Then  to  it  be  thou  given; 
And  remember  that  it  stirred 

Thy  bosom  friend  in  heaven. 

Know  thou  that  He  came  down  to  earth, 

To  save  rebellious  man  ? 
Within  the  manger  was  His  birth, 

Who  wrought  redemption's  plan. 

O,  melting  pity,  thou  could'st  move 

Upon  the  sorrows  deep? 
Of  Him  whose  soul  was  only  love, 

And  cause  that  soul  to  weep. 

'  Twas  pity  made  Him  feel  our  woes, 

'Twas  pity  made  Him  love 
His  greatest,  deadliest,  earthly  foes!— 

The  Savior  from  above^.f 

If  pity,  then,  could  make  Him  feel, 

Who  never  felt  in  vain, 
Should  we,  poor  mortals,,  weak  and  frail, 

Pity  refuse  again  ? 

O,  pity  him  who  pity  needs, 

And  bind  his  broken  heart; 
Pity  the  thousand  hearts  that  bleed, 

And  act  the  Savior's  part. 

128 


The  world  is  full  of  wretchedness, 

Of  grief  and  sorrow  too; 
Let  pity  move  for  deep  distress, 

And  human  pity  flow. 

Pity  the  wanderer,  him  whose  days, 

Are  full  of  wretchedness; 
For  him  hope  never  lent  her  rays, 

Or  shone  on  Calvary. 

His  lot  was  cast,  perchance,  where  vice 
Was  taught  him  from  his  youth, 

Where  Satan,  clothed  in  dark  disguise, 
Kept  back  the  sacred  truth. 

Or  else  in  dark  temptation's  hour, 

He  gave  away  to  sin; 
One  word  might  saved  him  from  its  power, 

And  kept  him  pure  within. 


We   too,  are  poor,  and  weak,  and 
And  pity  need  from  man, 

Let  charity  on  us  prevail  , 
To  pity  all  we  can.  \ 


129 


TXTle  ail  are  jfraiL 

We  all  are  frail,  each,  one  and  all, 
Who  dwell  on  this  terrestrial  ballj 
Each  have  their  faults^  their  wretchedness, 
All  stand  in  need  of  charities. 


thou  see  thy  brother  err, 
And  does  he  do  thee  giant  wrong? 
Let  charity,,  the  conquerer, 

With  meekness  bind  thee  true  and  strong. 

More  blessed  far  than  to  receive,— 
Forgive,t'tis  noble,  good  and  just; 

Forgiving,  let  us  learn  to  live,  _ 
Bury  our  wrongs  all  in  the  dust.^ 

For  we,  too,  blindly  tread  our  way, 

And  deviatingly  we  goj 
While  fancy's  flash  and  reason's  ray 

Lend  but  a  transient^  meteor  glow. 

The  world  is  wide  enough,and  good  — 
Then  let  us  give  our  fellows  due; 

A  universal  brotherhood  > 

Will  kindly  help  each  other  through. 

Were  we  not  born  for  purposes, 

Exalted,  holy  and  most  high  ? 
Then  let  us  all  our  faults  confess, 

And  live  as  we  would  wish  to 

130 


If  thou  hast  genius,  boast  it  not, 

But  strive  to  make  it  brighter  shine; 

Yet  all  its  glories  cannot  blot, 

The  weaknesses  which  still  are  thine. 

If  thou  hast  goodness,  keep  it  still, 
With  kindness  let  thy  heart  o'erflowj 

Have  sympathy  for  human  ill,— - 
Oj.  drop  a  tear  for  human  woe.t 

And  hast  thou  greatness,,  mind  and  heart, 
Both  acting  in  their  higher  sphere? 

If  thou  would'st  nobly  act  thy  part, 
Let  charity  her  temple  rear.1 

If  thou  art  wrong,  confess  it  now;~ 
If  thou  art  wronged,  O/meekly  bow;* 

Have  charity  for  weaknesses,, — 

Blessing  thyself,  so  shalt  thou  bless. ; 


6cm, 

O,  lovely  is  woman, 
Of  true  beauty  possessed. 
It  makes  her  an  angel, 
Her  presence  ever  blest. 


Soul  is  Xonsin$  for  llts  IRest. 

My  soul  is  longing  for  its  rest, 

It  would  no  longer  stay  ; 
Then  let  it  fly  to  Jesus'  breast, 

Freed  from  its  mortal  clay. 

Adieu,  vain  world,  with  all  thy  charms, 

I  feel  thy  power  no  more; 
My  Savior  stands  with  outstretched  arms, 

On  Heaven's  blissful  shore. 

Farewell,  dear  friends,  weep  not  for  me, 
We  soon  shall  meet  above, 

To  spend  a  long  eternity 
With  those  we  dearly  love. 

The  victor  comes,  the  victor,  death, 

And  now  I  welcome  thee, 
Come,  take  my  fainting,  gasping  breath, 

And  set  my  spirit  free. 

Come,  angels,  come,  bear  me  away, 
For  Nature's  ties  are  riven ; 

I  hear  the  song,  the  blissful  song, 
Th'  immortal  song  of  Heaven. 

September,  1846. 


132 


Columbia. 

Columbia,  when  first  thou  sprung 
Forth  into  life,  then  round  thee  hung 
Dark  threat'ning  clouds  and  angry  skies; 
The  nations  looked  with  anxious  eyes, 
The  storm  of  war  went  rolling  by, 
And  thou  didst  gain  thy  liberty. 

Then  looked  the  nations  of  the  earth, 
Much  wondering  at  thy  mighty  birth, 
But  soon  thy  starry  flag  unfurl'd, 
With  welcome  met  o'er  all  the  world, 
In  every  land,  on  every  sea, 
Hail,  all  hail,  Columbia. 

Brighter  than  morn,  than  flowers  more  fair, 

Of  virtues  many,  graces  rare, 

Blooming  among  the  western  wilds, 

And  crown'd  with  laurel,  deck'd  with  smiles, 

Thy  snow-white  mantle,  purity, 

Youthful  and  fair  Columbia. 

Yet  'neath  thy  snowy  bosom's  fold 
The  serpent  Slavery  black  had  coiled; 
He  saw  thy  youth,  thy  beauteous  charms, 
And  rested  in  thy  snowy  arms. 

133 


At  first  thou  thought  to  turn  him  out 
Ere  he  grew  up  a  monster  stout; 
Year  after  year  went  rolling  by, 
And  thou  extoll'd  Columbia. 

Proud,  thy  free  sons  were  blessing  thee, 
And  gloried  that  our  land  was  free; 
Thy  stars  and  stripes,  on  every  breeze, 
Were  floating  on  a  thousand  seas. 

But  hark,  that  sound  from  Southern  plains 
Is  not  of  sweet,  enchanting  strains, 
Harsh  and  discordant,  'tis  the  cry 
Of  thy  dark  sons  for  liberty; 
Of  thy  dark  sons,  Columbia, 
Whom  thou  hast  doomed  to  slavery. 

With  shame  we  draw  the  veil  aside 
Which  would  thy  sin  and  weakness  hide, 
'Tis  here  the  monster  we  behold, 
Who  in  thy  youthful  bosom  coiled, 
His  poisonous  fangs  deep  in  thy  breast, 
Columbia, —  unwelcome  guest. 

And  thy  dark  sons  in  bondage  mourn, 
Whom  for  the  monster  thou  has  borne 
Bastards,  not  sons,  their  cruel  fate 
To  meet  thy  scorn,  thy  loving  hate; 
They  look  for  succor  up  to  thee, 
Yet  sigh  in  vain  for  liberty. 

134 


How  canst  thou  be  deceitful  thus? 
Part  of  thy  sons  with  bondage  curse, 
The  other  part  thy  blessings  share. 
While  these  defiled  thy  impress  bear? 
Thy  stain  is  deep,  Columbia,  f 
What  flood  can  wash  thy  sins  away? 

Repent,  repent,  ere  'tis  too  late,  f 

Down  on  thy  knees,  thy  sins  are  great; 

In  all  the  bitterness  of  woe 

Let  thy  repentant  tears  o'erflow,? 

So  may'st  thou  find  the  cleansing  flood, 

Love  all  thy  children  and  thy  God.  f 


March,  1847,  E.  R.  Morse. 


Ipast. 

The  past  is  gone^-gone  forever,.- 
Never  to  returns-no,  never,  t 
Its  years  of  youth,  and  manhood's  prime^ 
Have  floated  down  the  stream  of  time,- 
Gone,  gone  forever.  ? 


135 


Gbe  Xanfc  of  IReet. 

Rejoice,  there  is  a  land  of  rest 
For  those  who  weep  and  mourn, 

A  balm  for  every  wounded  breast 
By  sin  and  sorrow  torn. 

While  here  on  earth  with  them  oppressed, 

We  languish  and  decay  ; 
But  there  forever  shall  be  blest 

With  life's  eternal  day. 

Though  weary  pilgrims  here  below, 

Our  sorrows  soon  will  end, 
And  then  to  brighter  worlds  we'll  go. 

While  angel  bands  attend. 

No  more  the  pains  and  ills  of  life 

Shall  each  be  called  to  bear, 
But  joy  and  peace  shall  drink  up  strife, 

And  reign  eternal  there,  t 


136 


Centennial  1b\>mn. 

My  country,  to  glory,and  grandeur  arise; 
In  song  and  in  story^a  world  with  thee  vies; 
The  hearts  of  the  bravest^in  homes  of  the  free, 
The  hands  of  the  truestydo  homage  to  thee.   ? 

CHORUS. 

O,  green  be  forever.? 

The  hallowed  sodu' 
Where  feet  of  the  pilgrims  5 

And  martyrs  have  trod,  f 

Sisterhood  of  States,,, 

Phalanx  mighty  and  grandj 

Glory  now  awaits  ; 

Lead  in  Freedom's  van.  f 

O,  prophets  and  sagesj, 

O,  heroes  who  bled, 
Far  back  in  the  ages  j 

Ye  labored  and  led.  . 

O,  yet  are  ye  living, 

Aye,  living  alway, 
Down  the  dim  centuries,? 

Yet  lighting  the  way.  ^ 

137 


CHORUS. 

Of  green  be  forever.? 

The  hallowed  socl? 
Where  feet  of  the  pilgrims. 

And  martyrs  have  trod.? 

O,  our  century  past,— 

Saluting  the  new,— 
We  hail  thee  in  triumphs  - 

In  passing  review,  f 

Our  flag,  Of  dear  emblem,  _ 
No  more  o'er  the  slave,  — 

Is  floating  in  triumph, 
O'er  land  of  the  brave.  ? 

CHORUS. 

Of  green  be  forever  > 
The  hallowed  sod., 

Where  feet  of  the  pilgrims^, 
And  martyrs  have  trod.? 

Blest  star,that  prophetic; 

On  Bethlehem  shone  •> 
With  radiant  beauty^ — 

A  glory  thine  own.  f 

Behold  a  bright  beacon. 

The  fairest  and  best, 
The  light  of  the  nations, — 

Bright<  :    star  of  the  West.? 

138 


Far  from  Europea  > 

Her  children  came  forth  J 

To  find  theej  blest  Freedom, 
Thou  fairest  of  earth.      • 

O,  here  in  the  wildwood, 
The  wilderness  shaded 

Their  pray'r^and  their  blessing, 
On  thy  altar  was  laid.  ^ 

Auspicious  event,?  - 

Centennial  year^. 
Our  Washington's  spirit, 

Is  hovering  near,    f 

O,  Chieftain  Patria, 

The  bells  sweetly  chime,— 
'  Mid  booming  of  cannon, 

In  grandeur  sublime.  \ 

Unrivaled  in  greatness,— 

Unsullied  in  fame,  — 
Oj>  patriot  heroy  - 

Immortal  thy  name.  ; 

CHORUS. 

O,  green  be  forever^ 
The  hallowed  sod,; 

Where  feet  of  the  pilgrims, 
And  martyrs  have  trod,  f 

'39 


From  ocean  to  ocean, 

From  mountain  to  sea, 
A  loyal  devotion, 

Our  country  to  thee. V 

O,  Savior,  Redeemer, 

From  shore  unto  shore, 
May  Peace,  the  white  angel, 

Dwell  now,  evermore,    f 

CHORUS. 

O,  green  be  forever^ 
The  hallowed  sod  / 

Where  feet  of  the  pilgrims , 
And  martyrs  have  trod,  f 

The  grandest  effort  of  my  life:  the  greatest  achievement. — E.  R.  MORSE. 


ZEbe  present. 

The  present  isjpresent  ever/- 
Always  to-day-4£>-*rriorrow  never;— 
Improve  the  moments  as  they  fly, 
Before  to-morrow  thou  may'st  die,-" 
And  thy  probation  cease  forever..* 

A  gem. 


2>eat>. 

How  silently  they  sleep 

Beneath  the  coffin  lid, 
Within  their  narrow  houses,  deep  — 

The  dead !  the  dead !  the  deadj 

O,  calm  and  undisturbed 
Their  long  and  last  repose  ; 

By  a  cold  world  how  soon  forgot, 
How  soon  by  mortal  foes! 

On  hill  and  plain  they  lie, 
In  valleys  sweet  and  low, 

They  heed  no  more  the  wind's  low  sigh, 
Nor  Winter's  drifting  snow.? 

The  husband  and  the  wife, 

The  father  and  the  son, 
The  daughter,  and  the  blushing  bride 

Beside  her  cherish'd  one. 

And  little  babes  at  rest, 

Sleep  by  their  mother's  side; 

And  near,  a  shaft  in  Earth's  cold  breast 
Tells  when  a  stranger  died.  ? 

The  toils  of  life  are  past, 
Their  pilgrimage  is  o'er; 

The  storm  that  rides  upon  the  blast 
Shall  waken  them  no  more.- 

Published  in  the  Green  Mountain  Freeman,  March  2J,  1851. 

141 


IRolle 


c 

Yes,  Time  rolls  on,  nor  will  ,  he/  stay. 
^^•t-^,'1-.   '  }' 

Nor  tarry  with  us  here; 
Like  all  things  else  which  pass  away, 
So  will  this  fleeting  year.*" 

Like  all  things  else  which  mortals  claim  y 

Upon  this  little  earth; 
It  soon  to  them  will  be  the  same 

As  'twas  before  their  birth,  f 

Its  home  is  vast  eternityy 

From  which  it  comes  and  goesy 

While  each  revolving  century, 
Back  to  its  center  flows.        ? 

Each  moment  as  it  swiftly  flies, 
Gives  Hfe  a  fleeting  breathj 

when  God  speaks,  away  it  dies, 
Dissolved  ]}y  icy  death. 

' 


142 


©'clock  is  Saving. 

Ten  o'clock  is  saying", 

Morning  well  now  is  past; 

Accent  strongly  laying 
On  number  ten  at  last. 

Sounds  I  hear  are  pealing, 

Those  sounds,  I  know  them  well, 

Gently  o'er  me  stealing 
From  that  old  town  bell. 

Moments  swiftly  flying, 

Come  quick,  stay  short,  and  go; 
Quickly  they  are  dying, 

Do  we  their  value  know? 

E'en  while  I  now  am  writing, 
The  moments  some  past  ten, 

Sounds  my  soul  delighting, 
Which  sweetly  echoed  then, 

Soon  will  give  me  warning 

Another  hour  has  flown, 
Tell  the  hour  of  morning, 

Eleven  now  its  own. 

Hark!  e'en  now  'tis  ringing, 
The  old  clock's  well-known  sound; 

Time  is  swiftly  winging, 
Upon  its  voyage  bound. 


tbe  printer. 

Pay  the  printer,  pay  him  well, 

Let  him  have  no  chance  to  dun; 
How  his  heart  with  joy  would  swell, 
His  many  ink  marks,  who  can  tell? 
Pay  him  ere  his  work's  begun. 

Take  a  paper,  read  the  news, 

Pay  for't  like  an  honest  man  ; 
You  can  do  it,  don't  refuse, 
It  may  drive  away  the  blues  — 
For  a  printer  sometimes  can. 

Press  and  paper,  type  and  ink, 
Labor,  labor  night  and  day; 
Hands  to  work  and  minds  to  think. 
These  are  needful, —  shall  he  sink 
Just  because  he  needs  his  pay? 

Would  you  have  him  do  for  naught, 

Striving  with  his  utmost  care, 
Bringing  sparkling  gems  of  thought, 
As  he  does,  and  as  he  ought, 
Into  his  casket,  rich  and  rare? 

Farmer^  follow  up  the  plow,? 

Mechanic,  raise  thy  toil-worn  hand,. 
Labor  on  with  reeking  brow, 
All  ye  toiling  millions,  too, 

And  .pay  the  printetfof  the  land.  ; 

Published  in  the  Green  Mountain  Freeman,  January  23,  1851. 

144 


Hcroetic. 

I.ATKA    ANN    THOMAS. 

Look  on  ocean,  mighty  sweeping, 
A  grandeur's  in  her  rolling  waves; 
Underneath  are  millions  sleeping, 
Reposing  in  their  watery  graves. 
Afar  in  Heaven,  brightly  shining, 

A  thousand  stars  their  vigil  keep; 
'Neath  their  mantle  sweetly  shining, 
Night's  nature  softly  lulls  to  sleep. 

The  things  of  earth,  how  beautiful, 
How  grand,  how  awful  and  sublime 
O,  be  you  ever  dutiful, 
M —  thus  a  laurel'd  wreath  entwine, 
And  as  your  names  together  span, 
So  here  'tis  Thomas,  Laura  Ann. 

Cousin  living  in  Boston.     March,  1842.     E.  R.  MORSK. 


Another  year  has  passed  away 
Since  last  we  saw  Thanksgiving  Day, 
Another  year  of  time  has  fled 
And  numbered  many  with  the  dead. 

And  yet  we  live  and  onward  move, 
The  object  of  our  Maker's  love. 
And  truly  thankful  let  us  be 
That  He  is  ours  from  infancy, 

And  watches  e'en  the  cradle  breath, 
And  guards  us  from  the  shafts  of  death, 
And  all  along  through  blooming  youth 
Points  out  the  way  of  sacred  truth. 

Through  middle-age  lends  life  and  strength, 
And  when  to  hoary  age  at  length 
We  come  from  youth  and  healthful  bloom, 
He  smooths  our  pathway  to  the  tomb. 

Another  year  of  blessings  gone, 
Another  year  of  mercies  flown, 
And  have  we  felt  those  mercies  ours, 
Those  blessings  sweet'ning  all  the  hours? 

Or  must  we  sad  reflections  cast 
As  long  as  memory  shall  last? 

146 


Our  hearts  should  fill  with  gratitude, 
And  nothing  else  this  day  intrude; 
Should  overflow  with  heart-felt  praise 
To  God,  the  Maker  of  our  days. 

We  should  remember  that  His  love 
Doth  her  white  pinions  o'er  us  move. 
And  while  His  blessings  on  us  pour, 
Gladly  would  do  for  us  still  more. 

Another  year  has  passed  away 
Since  last  we  saw  Thanksgiving  Day, 
Another  year  of  time  has  fled 
And  numbered  many  with  the  dead. 

Our  friends  have  gone  and  left  us  here 
To  shed  for  them  the  mournful  tear; 
Perchance  in  childhood  they  have  gone, 
And  in  the  morn  at  early  dawn 

Have  left  us  to  bewail  and  mourn 
That  from  our  bosom  they  are  torn; 
Or  else,  in  vigorous,  youthful  bloom, 
We  laid  them  in  the  silent  tomb, 

And  wept  that  beauty  should  decay 
And  pass  so  soon  with  life  away; 
Or  else,  perchance,  our  bosom  torn 
Bleeds  for  a  bosom  friend  we  mourn. 

147 


While  all  the  grief  sorrow  can  know 
Is  gathered  in  our  bitterest  woe, 
Our  brother,  sister,  parents  dear, 
Perchance  have  caused  the  sorrowing  tear 

To  sadly  fall,  to  slumber  not, 
Nor  sleep  until  they  are  forgot; 
If  they  have  not,  they  may  before 
Another  year  has  closed  the  door 

Which  keeps  us  from  the  next,  and  lay 
Them  down  to  moulder,  to  decay; 
Or  we  may  go  and  leave  them  thus, 
To  grieve  and  weep  and  mourn  for  us. 

Then  let  us  all  do  as  we  should, 
And  strive  to  do  each  other  good; 
Begin  at  home  the  work  to  do, 
And  let  it  reach  our  neio-hbors,  too. 

o 

Let  it  go  forth  to  all  abroad, 
And  thus  obey  and  honor  God; 
Then  short  our  life,  or  short  our  stay, 
Shall  thankful  be  when  we  can  say: 

Our  work  is  done,  our  work  below, 
To  our  reward  we  now  will  go ; 
Thus  happy  ever  shall  we  be, 
Possessing  it  eternally. 

December,  1844. 

148 


'Tis  noon, —  rays  of  the  mid-day  sun 

Are  blessing  us  with  light, 
Has  half  his  well-known  circuit  run 

While  in  his  swift-wing'd  flight. 

The  northern  winds  blow  shrill  and  strong 

And  shake  the  forest  round, 
As  through  the  sky  it  sweeps  along 

With  roaring,  dismal  sound. 

It  blows  upon  the  forest  trees 

And  bears  their  leaves  away ; 
Ah!  yes.  the  chilly  northern  breeze 

Devotes  them  to  decay. 

I  look  and  see  the  waving  trees 
That  clothe  the  woodland  glen, 

Who  can  but  see,  that  looking  sees, 
That  Autumn  there  hath  been? 

How  beautiful  to  look  upon 

This  grand  and  varied  scene, 
Its  Summer  robe  is  partly  gone, 

Its  robe  of  Summer  green. 

'Tis  work  of  Nature,  not  of  art, 

'Tis  more  than  man  can  do; 
Of  Nature's  work  it  forms  a  part, 

And  much  imposing,  too. 


Sea  of  Xifc. 


Life  is  a  rough,  tempestuous  sea, 
Whose  waters  never  rest; 
Whose  wild  waves  beat  tumultuously 
Against  each  mortal  breast; 
Billow  on  raging  billow  piled^ 
Rushes  to  meet  the  tempest  wild.f 

We're  tossed  upon  the  treach'rous  deep, 

Where  dangers  thickly  lie, 

Where  rocks  and  shoals  may  cause  to  weep 

Ere  we  have  passed  them  by; 

Though  prospects  fair  may  greet  our  eyes, 

Before  the  angry  tempest  rise.  £ 

How  frail  each  weather  beaten  bark, 

Laden  with  precious  store  ! 

The  storm  is  loudrthe  night  is  dark." 

Far,  far  away  from  shore; 

But  oh,  a  beacon  light  I  see, 

It  is  for  all  —  for  you,  for  me.  . 

It  is  a  glorious  beacon  light, 

To  light  us  through  the  gloom; 

Oh,  it  will  guide  us  through  the  night, 

To  our  eternal  home.  $ 

Look  on  that  glorious  light  afnry- 

'Tis  Bethlehem's  unrivaled  Star.. 


Composed  in  1846.     K.  K.  MOKM  . 

150 


IRcvcrlc. 

The  Moon  is  rising  in. the  east,, 
The  Oueen  of  Night  she  comes^ 

Gay-decked  as  for  a  royal  feasty 
In  robes  of  light  she  comes,  f 

The  glow  of  health  is  on  her  cheek) 

And  smiles  upon  her  brow; 
Say,  Moon,  what  would'st,  if  thou  could'st 
speak, 

What  would'st  thou  tell  me  now? 

^To  break  the  slumber  from  my  soul" 

From  darkness  call  up  light, 
And  cause  the  waves  of  sorrow  roll* 
Away  to  deepest  night.  : 

O,  could'st  thou  point  me  to  the  shore, 
Where  sin  and  sorrow  ceases 

Where  pain  and  anguish  are  no  morer" 
Where  all  is  joy  and  peace.? 

Then  would  my  soul  within  me  bound 


'  wait  the  coming  day; 

£, _c~  *-  C-A- 

sed  from    '  could  catch 
To  bliss  would  soar  away.f 


Released  from  '•  could  catch  the  sound— 


Sublimely  swell  love's  wond'rous  theme,— 
r,v  «:  --'."Vide  the  field  expand  ; 
'Tis  here  only  a  faint  star-gleam^— 
A  ray  upon  the  sand,  f 

Revised  August,  1894. 


Welcome  to  3ennie  Hint). 

Welcome/ O,  welcome,  kind  welcome  to  thee/ 

To  the  home  of  the  brave,  and  the  land  of  the  free.? 

tot*.    C&, 

Welcome!  the  cannon  sends  forth  its  boom  , 

V 

As  the  keel  of  the  vessel  glides  o'er  the  white  foam. 
All  honor  and  glory,  O  mother,  to  thee  > 
For  bearing  this  flower  far  over  the  sea.? 

Welcome,KO,  welcome^  the  bells  sweetly  chime; 
In  harmony  mingle,  in  grandeur  sublime » 
The  people  are  waitingy-sweet  ang-el  of  song?— - 
O  hasten  to  meet  them^ —  the  temples  they  throng!' 

Welcome,"  warm  welcome,  thrice  welcome  to  thee, 
OrNightingale  sweet,  to  the  land  of  the  free.  J 

Revised  Aug.  14,  1894.     E.  R.  MORSE. 


152 


1850. 


jfuturc. 


The  future's  not-yet  ever  near  us, 

With  unseen  things,  to  grieve  or  cheer  us; 

We  know  not  whether  with  the  morrow, 

Shall  come  to  us,  or  joy,  or  sorrow; 

But  O/'tis  safe  for  mortal  dust; 

In  God  alone  to  put  its  trust. 

The  past,  the  present,  and  the  future  dwell 

With  Him  who  doeth  all  things  well.. 


There  Love  her  golden  harp  shall  take, 

And  chant  immortal  lays; 
Shall  bid  each  joyful  tongue  awake, 

To  join  the  general  praise. 
Extract. 


'S3 


acrostic. 

SAKAH    C.    1IAYI.NA. 

Sarah  is  the  name  I  speak, 
And  acrostic  here  I  seek. 
Roses  bright,  unfold  a  bloom, 
And  they  shed  a  sweet  perfume; 
Half  unseen,  their  beauty  fades. 

Calm,  serene,  while  evening  shades 

Hold  their  sway  o'er  parting  day, 
And  the  red  light  fades  away. 
Versed  in  sevens,  here  I  rhyme, 
End'll  make  of  homely  chime. 
No  more  to  write,  I  will  rejoice 
And  sign  my  name,  E.  R.  Morse. 

Second  Cousin. 


'51 


Campaign 

Rally*  rally,  freemen,  rally, 

From  the  prairie,  broad  and  free; 

From  the  mountain,  hill  and  valley* 
Let  it  echo  to  the  sea;     f 

For  Grant  and  Wilson,,  tried  and  true,, 
Let  the  nation's  verdict  be.  £ 

Glory;  glory*  hallelujah! 
Our  chief  is  marching  on.: 

Spunky  Vermont  has  been  beating* 
Our  friend  Brown_,and  Horace  G. 
The  Buckeye  State,  and  land  of  Penn, 

C  ks      «-         **-          (I-      *•       t~    C^~r~ 

Have  echoed  from  each  hill  and  glen, 
And  send  us  loyal  greeting;  ; 
'  Neath  our  flag,  red,  white  and  blue, 
For  Grant  and  Wilson,,  tried  and  true, 
Let  the  nation's  verdict  be,  • 

Glory,  glory,  hallelujah,— 
Grant  is  marching  on.  I 


Published  in  Rock  ford  Gaxette. 


l$5 


Hftcr  tbe  Storm. 

The  scene  from  strife  is  changed^ 
To  one  sublimely  grand/ 

Its  colors  beautiful  to  see^ — 
The  rainbow_r-£mercy  planned.! 

Its  varied  hues  are  seen_, 
All  blushing  in  the  east; 

The  sunbeams  glow  upon  the  green,- 
A  rich  and  royal  feast.  $ 

All  nature  sweetly  sings, 

And  joyful  is  the  song, 
That  through  the  air  on  happy  wings, 

The  chorus  bears  along.  ? 

January,  1843. 


Xlfc  is  a  Struck. 

Life  is  a  struggle, 

Oh,  all  the  way  through ; 
Always  'tis  old, 

And  always  'tis  new. 

From  childhood  and  youth, 
From  cradle  to  grave, 

A  battle  for  right, 

Triumph  for  the  brave. 


acrostic, 

A  XX     M.   I.I  TTl.F.VIKLD. 

A  ransom'd  host  mightily  swelling 
Nature's  vast  theme  surrounds  the  throne, 
Numerous  millions,  wondrous  telling, 

Mingle  with  melodious  tones. 

Lo,  what  music  sweetly  pealing, 

In  gorgeous  grandeur  rolls  along; 

There  sweeps  Nature,  godlike  kneeling, 

The  harp's  angelic,  heavenly  song; 

Lamps  of  Heaven  brightly  burning, 

Eternal  in  their  courses  go, 

Fling  their  light,  their  bright  eyes  turning 

In  grandeur,  all  with  beauteous  glow. 

Enclosed  is  there  what  I  began ; 

Love  true  beauty,  learn  your  duty, 

Do  it,  and  all  is  well  with  Ann. 

Second  Cousin.     Milford,  Mass.,  1842. 


157 


Silent  Olant). 

Where  is  the  silent  land? 

I  ask,  but  none  reply. 
O,  where  that  far-off  strand^ 

Where  mortals  no  more  sigh? 

Over  the  river  wide, 

Our  friends  have  crossed  before. 
Have  reached  the  other  side. 

Silent  forever  more.  .* 

And  we  soon,  too,  must  pass 
The  flood,  with  muffled  oar. 

Where  none  return,  alas, 

From  that  far  distant  shore. ? 

Where  is  the  silent  land, 

Where  mortal  never  weeps? 

No  mind  can  understand ;  — 
Silence  her  vigil  keeps. f 

Where  is  the  silent  land  ? 

In  ocean's  barren  isles? 
Where  reigneth  silencej-and,  — 

And  nature  never  smiles? 

Where  is  the  silent  land  ? 

In  finite/  spaceless  air  ? 
No  sound  by  breezes  fanned, 

Us,  spirit  tidings  bear.  ? 

158 


M:iy,  1884. 


Where  is  the  silent  land  ? 

In  the  etherial  blue,— 
Where  reigneth  silencer-grand^ 

Beyond  our  mortal  view.  ? 


Hcroatic. 

IKIUSHA  nn.i.  THOMAS. 

Jehovah  reigns,  the  King  above  ; 
Eternal  reigns  the  God  of  Love  - 
Rules  the  nations  by  his  power, 
Unfolds  His  beauty  in  the  Hower ; 
Supports  us  with  His  mighty  hand; 
H£  heals  our  sorrows,  saves  our  land. 
A  world  most  wonderous  He  has  made 

Has  all  in  order  set  arrayed; 
In  earth,  in  sea,  in  spaceless  air, 
Life,  light  eternal,  reigneth  there. 
Let  wonder  gaze,  our  bosom  swells, 

The  heart's  its  home,  nature  dwells 
Here ;  here  dear  cousin  may  you  know 
Of  virtue's  prize,  its  worth  below. 
May  you  through  life  blest  peace  enjoy 
And  happy  be  without  alloy. 
So  here  to  you  a  kind  adieu. 

Second  Cousin.     October,  1844. 


Summer. 

The  Summer's  last  day  has  come; 

Time  rolling  has  brought  it  here; 
Then  Autumn,  with  its  busy  hum, 

Brings  "the  yellow  leaf  and  sere." 

The  days  of  her  youth  have  fled, 
Her  mid-day  hours  have  flown; 

She  sinks  'mid  her  kindred  dead, 
Her  beauty  and  glory  have  gone. 

Exulting,  she  spreads  her  wings 
Over  sea  and  earth  and  air; 

Now  Death  her  shroud  o'er  her  flings, 
O'er  Summer,  so  smiling  and  fair. 

And  who  her  mourners  shall  be,? 

Who  lament  the  gathering  pall, 
Who  pay  the  tribute  that's  due, — 

The  tribute  that's  due  from  all  ? 

No  longer  we  call  her  our  own, 

She  was, —  no  more  is  ours, 
Her  home's  the  eternal  throne, 
,    And  hers  th'  eternal  pow'rs. 

Departing,  her  last  words  are  spoken, - 
Have  echoed  within  our  ear,- 

A  sure  and  solemn  token, 

Succeeds  the  autumnal  year,  i 

August  31,  1842. 

160 


Gbe  Hsbtabula  Iborror. 

Oh,  toll  the  bell!     Oh,  toll  the  bell! 

In  saddest  tones  of  woe; 
Ring  out  their  knell !     Ring  out  their  knell ! 

Ye  seething  flames  below; 
And  hissing  steam,  and  blinding  smoke, 
More  cruel  than  the  sabre  stroke ; 

No  hand  can  stay  the  foe. 

Oh,  down  to  death  !     Oh,  down  to  death ! 

In  awful  crash  they  went; 
All  in  one  breath.     All  in  one  breath, 

In  horrid  burial  blent, 

No  note  of  warning  sent. 

Oh,  God!     Our  God!     We  cannot  see  - 
Tt  is  thy  own  dark  mystery  - 
Our  voice  is  mute,  our  eye  is  dim, 
In  vain  for  succor,  look  to  Him. 

The  good  and  bad,  coward  and  brave 
Here  share  alike  a  common  grave  ; 
Our  heart  is  faint.     Upon  the  air 
Floats  out  that  wail  of  deep  despair; 
In  vain  their  hope,  in  vain  their  plea 
Appeals,  Oh,  God!  Oh,  God!  to  Thee, 
That  awful  wail  of  agony. 

Styled  the  "  Ashtahula  Horror"  in  the  newspapers  at  the  time  of  the  acci 
dent  on  the  railroad  near  Ashtahula,  Ohio,  in  which  seventy-five  persons  lost 
their  lives  from  being  crushed  or  mangled,  drowned,  scalded  or  burned  to 
death  in  this  great  catastrophe. 

161 


flDelancbolp  Smile. 

How  eloquently  speaks^ 
The  melancholy  smile/ 

It  tells  the  heart's  deep  loneliness- 
One  gleam  of  joy  the  while. 

Behold  the  trembling  tear* 

Moist'ning  the  mourner's  eye ; 

How  hard  the  struggling  spirit  strives, 
To  choke  the  rising  sigh.f 

The  swelling  bosom  heaves., 
With  inward  grief  opprest/ 

The  cold  world  feels  no  sympathy, 
For  that  sad,  aching  breast,  t 

And  yet  with  radiance  oft, 
The  features  mutely  glow; 

It  is  the  melancholy  smile , 
Softening  the  spirit's  woe.t 

But  oh^how  many  there  are, 
The  sorrowing  ones  of  earth, 

Who  feel  a  sadness  all  its  own* 
E'en  from  the  hour  of  birth.? 

Their  grieving  spirits  bow, 
Their  tears  bedew  the  sodj 

Their  sadly  melancholy  smile., 
Is  known  alone  to  God.  ? 

Published  in  Green  Mountain  Freeman,  1850.     E.  R.  MORSE. 

162 


Lo!  from  the  regions  of  the  north 
Old  Winter  swiftly  glides.; 

He  sends  his  furious  whirlwinds  forth, 
While  on  the  storm  he  rides. 

He  comes  o'er  mountain,  dale  and  hill, 
His  voice  is  stern  and  loudy 

And  to  his  most  despotic  will» 

All  things  have  owned  and  bowed. 

He  sealeth  up  the  silver  lakes., 

The  rivers  bind  in  chains, 
Till  nature  from  her  sleep  awakes? 

And  smiles  o'er  her  domains. 

Yon  forest^  sad,  and  lone,  behold> 
Where  now  his  footsteps  tread; 

It  seems  like  one  that  has  grown  old, 
Its  youth  and  beauty  fled. 

All  nature's  sad  —  for  in  the  tomb, 
Her  sweetest  Mowers  rest; 

Her  minstrels,  too,  are  hushed  in  gloom 
By  their  unwelcome  guest. 

Lo!  youthful  Spring  will  break  his  reign, 

And  he  will  hence  depart  _» 
With  nature  then  will  smile  again 

Each  joyful  human  heart.  • 
1850.    E.  R.  MORSE. 

163 


Gbe  Cuckoo. 

The  month  of  June  has  come, 
The  cuckoo's  voice  is  heard, 

Its  notes  are  all  gladsome, 
The  notes  of  this  sweet  bird. 

To  some,  perchance,  not  sweet. 

Yet  truly  sweet  to  me, 
Though  plaintively  it  greet 

With  mournful  melody. 

I  love  to  hear  its  tone, 
Its  music  in  the  wood  ; 

Congenial  with  my  own, 
Or,  in  its  neighborhood. 

With  us,  short  is  its  stay, 

The  music  of  its  song 
Seems  centered  in  one  lay, 

Nor  is  that  very  long. 

(),  short  does  it  tarry  here 

A  pilgrim  in  the  land, 
A  pilgrim  once  a  year, 

To  join  the  pilgrim  band. 

It  chanteth  others'  woes 

And  bears  them  to  the  throne; 
Its  song  poetic  glows, 

With  beauties  all  its  own, 

164 


Fair  one,  I  wish  my  lot 

Were  but  to  roam  with  thee. 
To  visit  every  spot, 

And  pour  sweet  minstrelsy. 

Then  nature's  solitude, 
At  dawn  of  rising  day, 

With  nothing  to  intrude. 
Would  echo  with  the  lay. 

All  nature's  plaintive  voice 
Seems  blended  in  thine  own, 

And  yet,  it  seems  thy  choice 
Thus  mournful  to  bemoan. 

To  some,  perchance,  not  sweet, 
Yet  dearly  sweet  to  me, 

Though  plaintively  thou  greet 
With  mournful  melody. 


June,  1844- 


165 


She  finmifcen's  prater. 

At  eve  I  heard  the  voice  of  pray'r 

In  accents  soft  and  lowly; 
Gently  it  rose  upon  the  air, 

Like  incense  sweet  and  holy. 

'  Twas  in  the  silent,  peaceful  grove, 
Where  autumn  winds  were  sighing, 

Where  budding  leaves  had  whispered  love, 
But  now  were  dead  or  dying. 

Her  outstretched  hands  were  raised  on  high, 

With  her  Redeemer  pleading; 
The  teardrop  glist'ning  in  her  eye, 

She,  poor  and  frail  and  needing. 

There  in  the  stillness  of  that  hour 

White  angels  hover' d  o'er  her, 
And  while  she  sought  protecting  pow'r, 

Sweet  consolation  bore  her. 

She  pray'd  —  but  not  for  length  of  days, 

Nor  yet  for  earthly  treasure; 
She  wished  to  walk  in  wisdom's  ways, 

For  there  were  life  and  pleasure. 

This  was  the  burden  of  her  pray'r, 

In  accents  soft  and  lowly: 
Lord,  keep  me  from  the  tempter's  snare, 

My  thoughts  make  pure  and  holy. 

166 


O.  guide  me  in  the  blessed  way, 
Thou  great  Almighty  Giver. 

Be  Thou  my  strength  from  day  to  day, 
My  hope  and  joy  forever. 

Published  in  the  Green  Mountain  Freeman,  1846.- -F.  R.  MOKSI  . 


acrostic. 

MAKV    JAM:  THOMAS. 

May  you,  fair  coz,  gentle  and  kind, 
And  happy  now,  forever  be. 
Regarding  virtue,  you  will  find 
Your  path'll  be  bright  o'er  life's  dark  sea. 

Jane  is  a  pretty  name,  be  sure, 
And  soft  and  mild  is  her  dark  eye  ; 
Nature  stands  deck'd,  lovely  and  pure, 
Embosom'd  there  is  her  deep  sigh. 

The  names  of  those  we  lov'd,  how  dear, 

How  sweet,  how  soft  their  whispers  seem. 

O,  may  mingle  each  our  tear, 

Mary,  or  do  I  idly  dream. 

Acrostic  to  his  cousin  given, 

Say,  shall  we  meet  above,  in  heaven  ? 

Boston,  Mass.,  March,  1842. 

.67 


TCflelcome  to  Summer. 

Welcome,  Summer,  welcome  here, 
Fairest  season  of  the  year; 
Welcome, to  the  forest  bow'rs, 
Welcome,  with  thy  songs  and  How'rs. 

Welcome,  said  departing-  Spring, 
Welcome,  breathes  each  living  thing; 
Welcome.,  smiles  all  Nature  free, 
Welcome,  Summer,  dear  to  me. 

Welcome;  from  thy  Southern  clime, 
Welcome,  smiling  Summer-time; 
Welcome^  with  thy  genial  skies, 
Welcome.,  with  thy  love-lit  eyes. 

Welcome^with  thy  bree/y  mirth, 
Walking, o'er  the  teeming  earth; 
Welcome, with  thy  angel  voice, 
Welcome,  season  of  my  choice. 

Thou  dost  come  in  bright  array. 
All  things  are  bending  to  thy  sway ; 
Roses  shed  their  fragrance  round ; 
With  bright  garlands  thou  art  crowned. 

Thou  art  on  a  thousand  hills  > 
By  the  merry  sparkling  rills ; 
And  the  gushing  fountains  free, 
While  they  welcome  give  to  thee. 

168 


And  upon  the  mountain  side; 
By  the  rivers  in  their  pride; 
In  the  valleys, bright  and  green, 
All  around  us  thou  art  seen. 

Beautiful  thy  garments  are, 
Smiling  Summer,  bright  and  fair ; 
Verdure  springs  from  last  year's  tomb, 
And  the  earth  is  full  of  bloom. 

Singing  bird,ancl  busy  bee, 
Welcome,  welcome  give  to  thee, 
Welcome  from  the  dewy  sod, 
Rises,  Summer,  up  to  God. 

Passing  with  thy  bright  array, 
Fading,  fleeting 7 is  thy  stay; 
Farewell/  Summer,  dear  to  me;- 
Last  farewell, —  farewell  to  thee.i 

Published  in  Vermont  Christian  Messenger,  July  2,  1854. 


169 


(Bo  Meet 

Go  thousand  find  a  Western  home, 

Go  turn  the  virgin  sod; 
Where  now  the  deer  and  red  man  roam, 

For  centuries  have  trod.  - 

Go  thou,into  the  forest  wild. 

And  let  the  sunlight  in^ 
Where  science  fair  has  never  smiled, 

A 

Where  art  has  never  been.  . 

Go  thousand  hew  the  giant  oak, 

And  lay  the  forest  low. 
Where  ne'er  before  the  echoes  woke;, 

From  woodman's  ringing  blow.. 

Go  plant  the  tree  of  liberty^ 

Towards  the  setting  sun; 
Hope's  guiding  star,and  victory;* 

Shall  be  thy  triumphs  won.  ^ 

Original  composed  March,  1854.     Revised  July  31,  1894.— K.  R.  MORSK. 


170 


Ibow  Ibappp  is  tbc 


How  happy  is  the  heavenly  throng; 

Of  whom  I'm  speaking  in  my  song, 

Happy  in  God's  eternal  love, 

That  ransom'dj  blood-bought  throng  above 

Their  God^  their  Maker  and  their  King^— 
His  love  extolj  His  praises  sing, 
Extol  His  powei}  and  sing  His  praise; 
So  glorious  in  all  His  ways. 

Hark  !  what  pealing  anthems  swell^ 
The  theme  of  love  on  which  they  dwell; 
There  He  sits  on  sapphire  throne, 
While  all  around  His  glory  own, 

Through  finite  depths  of  spaceless  air, 
He  reigns  the  King  eternal  there.  - 


Gben  IKHben  Golfcness  Cloos  Gbte 


Then  when  coldness  clogs  this  clay, 
And  the  tired  spirit  flies  away, 
When  life's  current  chilly  stands, 
And  when  nerveless  are  these  hands: 

When  this  aching*  anguish'd  heart? 
Feels  no  more  the  pained  dart, 
Then  my  soul,  from  sorrow  free, 
Shall  blest  and  happy  ever  be,, 

Then  shall  it  soar  to  ItfijgJ  realms  above, 
Where  all  is  peace,  and  joy  and  love, 
Join  the  ransom'd,  blood-bought  throng,, 
Chant  above  the  rapturous  song. 

Swell  on  high  the  wondrous  theme,  - 
And  tell  how  Jesus  did  redeem;- 
There,  forever,  sing  and  praise  5 
Dying  love,,  redeeming  grace.  • 

February,  1843. 


172 


Gurn  INow  to  (Sofc. 

Turn  now  to  GooV  ye  young  and  fair. 
Spend  in  his  service  all  your  days; 
Live  lives  of  humble,  grateful  pray'r, 
And  bless  your  God  with  heart-felt  praise. 

Though  now  in  health  and  beauty's  bloom, 
Though  now  beams  bright  hope's  cheering  star, 
Yet  there  awaits  a  gaping  tomb, 
And  sure,  beyond,  God's  righteous  bar.! 

You  know  not  but  to-morrow's  sun, 
May  soon,  forever  be  your  lastj 
Your  work,  perchance,  is  nearly  done, 
And  soon  your  lot  eternal  cast.  * 

Delay  not  then  till  future  years » 
Shall  bring  their  joys,  bestow  their  gifts, 
For  you  may  reap  in  bitter  tears, » 
When  Time  the  veil  of  mystery  lifts. f 

Ten  thousand  snares  are  in  your  path, 
And  Satan  archly  tempts  to  sinj 
O/then  beware  to  shun  God's  wrath  — 
Beware,  let  not  the  tempter  in.  !f 

Give  now  to  Christ  thy  youthful  heart, 
There  let  the  blessed  Savior  reignj 
So  shall  you,  guided  by  his  charts 
The  port  of  endless  pleasure  gain./ 

173 


acrostic. 

WILLIAM    CULLEN   WARNER. 

Weep !  oh,  ye  minstrels,  pour  your  lays 

Into  the  ear,  the  heart  of  man. 

Lo!  life  was  sweet  to  him  whose  days^ 

Like  sands,  too  soon,  their  courses  ran. 

Indulgent  sympathy,  let  fall 

A  teary-a  tear  of  sorrow  on  his  pall.f 

Man  lives,  but  who  can  tell  his  end? 

Cold  is  his  clay,  his  voice  is  still; 
Untimely  seems  his  fatal  end;  t 
Light;  hope  and  joy,  no  more  shall  fill 
Life  with  their  beams^or  glory  lend; 
Enshrouded  dee/*  in  death's  dark  gloom, 
No  more  of  earth,  but  of  the  tomb,  t 

Well  may  we  mourn  the  loss  of  friends, 
A  thousand  mourn,  oh,  man,  for  thee; 
Remembered  long,  thy  virtues  lend 
New,  nobler  charms,  since  thou  art  free; 
Eternity  is  now  thy  home;  f 
Redeemed,,  thy  soul  no  more  shall  roam.  I 

William  Cullen   Warner,  a  physician, .of  Bristol,  Vt.,  took  strychnine  by 
mistake  for  morphine  for  some  ailment,  thus  dying  by  his  own  hand. 


174 


Hn  tbe  Burial  Ground 

I  come  this  calm  and  lovely  day, 
And  to  my  kindred  tribute  pay; 
I  come  once  more,  O,  friends  so  dear, 
And  shed  o'er  you  the  mournful  tear. 

I  come  again  with  weary  feet, 
In  this  sad,  lone,  and  calm  retreat; 
I  walk  with  silent,  solemn  tread 
Among-  my  lov'd,  and  sleeping  dead. 

The  day  is  still,  serenely  bright, 
As  silent  as  the  silent  night ; 
A  quiet  reigns,  supremely  felt, 
Within  this  seeming  firmament. 

No  plaint  of  bird  or  humming  bee, 
Except  it  comes  from  some  lone  tree; 
Or  else  all  sounds  the  fainter  grow 
In  the  autumnal  fading  glow. 

The  faint,  sweet  chipper  of  the  bird, 
And  squirrel's  chatter,  low  is  heard 
In  the  old  forest's  cooling  shade, 
In  all  its  glory  now  arrayed. 

'Mong  balmy  pines,  in  plaintive  mood, 
I  lay  me  down  in  solitude 
Among  the  spruces,  bright  and  green, 
And  maples  smiling  o'er  the  scene. 


Yet  not  a  leaf  or  bud  is  stirr'd 
By  welcome  breeze  or  wing  of  bird, 
Among-  the  flowers  with  fragrance  sweet, 
Where  tread  my  weary,  wand'ring  feet. 

What  scenes  again  before  me  rise! 
I  look  and  gaze  with  eager  eyes, 
I  read  upon  the  lettered  stone 
The  time  a  life  on  earth  begun. 

The  time  of  death,  number  of  years 
They  struggled  on  'mid  smiles  and  tears; 
No  more  the  strife  on  this  frail  shore, 
Life's  battles  past,  its  conflicts  o'er. 

Departed  ones,  each,  one  and  all, 
I  list,  I  hear  your  voices  call, 
Although  the  lips  are  mute  in  death, 
Although  has  fled  the  mortal  breath, 
And  eyes  are  closed  to  scenes  of  earth, 
Yet  here  I  read,  I  see  your  worth. 

The  hand,  the  heart,  lie  nerveless,  still, 
And  yet  I  feel  their  pulses  thrill, 
And  voices  chanting,  sacred,  sweet, 
Come  crowding  on  this  calm  retreat. 

O,  father,  mother,  here  I  come, 
Once  more  I  see  you  in  your  home. 
Once  more  beneath  paternal  roof, 
Once  more  I  hear  the  kind  reproof; 

176 


Once  more  the  smile,  the  stern  command 
To  guide  me  to  the  heavenly  land. 

And  now  my  brother,  sister,  dear, 
Close  by  your  side  are  sleeping  here. 
A  fond  remembrance  comes  to  view, 
Takes  in  the  old,  new  things  review: 
The  kind  intent,  the  thought,  the  deed, 
The  mind,  the  heart,  could  justice  plead. 

O,  while  I  view  the  shaft  arise, 

Up  pointing  heavenward  to  the  skies, 

A  word,  a  line,  reveals  anew, 

Dear  ones,  the  lost,  the  tried,  the  true, 

The  sad  farewell,  the  smile,  the  tear, 

O,  how  they  cluster,  linger  here. 

The  marble,  cold  and  pure  and  white, 
Points  upward,  through  the  gloom  of  night, 
To  a  fair  world  beyond  the  skies, 
Unknown,  unseen  by  mortal  eyes; 
Sweet  voices  call  us,  come  away, 
Come,  pilgrims,  to  the  realms  of  day. 


177 


H  Ibpmn  of  praise. 

Again  I  view  the  morn, 

The  night  has  passed  away, 

And  now  with  rosy  light  new-born 
Beams  forth  the  opening  day. 

Father,  to  Thee  I  raise 

My  voice  in  humble  prayer; 

O,  teach  my  heart  that  I  may  praise 
The  God  of  earth  and  air. 

I  thank  Thee  that  my  sleep 
Prov'd  not  the  sleep  of  death, 

But  that  Thy  power  does  safely  keep 
And  gives  me  mortal  breath. 

While  some  who  laid  them  down, 

Their  weary  limbs  to  rest. 
May  wake  to  see  their  Mafite^'s  frown, 

Or  dwell  among  the  blest. 

Lord,  may  I  spend  this  day 

In  reverential  tear; 
O,  guide  me  in  the  blessed  way, 

And  be  Thou  ever  near. 

O,  fit  me  and  prepare 

For  all  Thy  righteous  will ; 

That  I  at  last  a  crown  may  wear, 
And  dwell  on  Zion's  Hill. 

178 


acrostic. 

OSCAR    E.  MORSE. 

Onward,  still  onward,  genius  marks  its  way, 
Science  and  steam^their  powers  great  display, 
Connecting  links^between  effect  and  cause,. 
And  all  in  unison  with  Nature's  laws? 
Rotating  pow'r  the  greatest  burden  draws. 

Earnest  in  thought^  earnest  in  deed  and  name.? 

Mighty  achievements  crown  the  truly  brave» 
O]  see  majestic  cleave  the  briny  wave. 
Right  royally  the  mine  shall  yield  its  gold. 
Steam  pow'r  its  hidden  treasures  shall  unfold. 
Excelsior; — the  verdict  of  the  world.? 


June  27,  1894. 


179 


Spring  again. 

The  winter  storms  are  past, 
And  now  the  chilly  blast 

Is  felt  no  more; 
The  spring  has  come  again, 
The  snows  upon  the  plain 

In  torrents  pour. 

The  genial  sun  comes  down 
On  icy  hills  that  crown 

The  vales  below ; 
And  there  his  rays  are  felt, 
Glaciers  now  slowly  melt, 

To  ocean  go. 

The  earth  comes  forth  from  death, 
For,  feeling  balmy  breath 

Of  spring,  she  wakes ; 
She  ope's  her  wondering  eyes, 
And  hails  the  genial  skies, 

And  music  makes. 

Come  down,  ye  hosts  above 
She  says  in  tones  of  love, 

And  let  us  sing; 
A  time  of  jubilee, 
Proclaim  it  joyfully 

To  our  high  King. 

180 


1845. 


And  thou,  bright  morning  ray, 
Join  in  the  pleasing  lay 

And  swell  the  song; 
While  feathered  tribes  around 
Prolong  the  welcome  sound, 

Which  floats  along. 

A  time  of  jubilee, 
Then  sound  it  joyfully 

In  tones  of  love; 
While  earth,  and  sea,  and  air, 
Breath  forth  to  Him  their  pray'r, 

Our  God  above. 


What  think  you  for  flowers,  our  little  May  queen,, 
Brought  home  from  her  rambles,  all  sweet  and  serene  ? 
She  brought  in  her  bouquet,  and  prattled  her  story, 
Pretty  flowers,  pretty  flowers,  'twas  all  I  could  find; 
I  looked  all  around,and  could  see  no  other  kind,— 
Alas!  they  were  relics  of  last  Summer's  glory.? 


181 


Gbougbts. 

O,  why  should  I  sink  with  dejection  and  gloom, 
And  why  to  these  fellings  of  sorrow  give  way? 

O,  why  should  I  wish  that  I  were  in  the  tomb, 
And  this  body  to  dust  were  mouldering  away? 

O,  why  thus  with  coldness  life's  scenes  should  I  view, 
And  turn  away  from  them  my  pain'd,  weary  eyes? 

O,  why  should  I  languish  before  they  are  through, 
The  days  of  my  sorrow,  whose  anguish  ne'er  dies? 

O,  God,  give  rne  grace,  and  pow'r  to  sustain 
This  feeble,  this  drooping,  this  body  of  mine; 

O,  grant  me  salvation  while  here  I  remain, 
While  a  pilgrim  on  earth,  a  sojourner,  I  stay. 

Lengthen  not  out  my  days  of  sorrow  and  grief. 
Unless  for  Thy  glory  my  life  to  prolong. 

But  whether  they're  many,  or  whether  they're  brief, 
O,  change  my  dull  story  to  rapturous  song. 

From  Satan  deliver,  from  sin,  guilt  and  shame, 
This  burden  of  sorrow  away  from  me  roll; 

Now  give  me  the  courage,  the  blessing  to  claim, 
Which  speaketh  my  pardon  and  maketh  me  whole. 

y 

O,  grant  me  Thy  grace,  ^<fc»plunge  in  the  flood, 
O,  plunge  in  the  fountain  of  Jesus'  shed  blood.; 

Now  wash  and  make  clean,  from  every  foul  stain,- 
Come,  reignj  blessed  Savior,  unrivaled  within. f 

January,  1843. 

182 


Sabbatb  flDorn. 

'  Tis  Sabbath  morn,  the  sun  is  bright, 
With  glory  shines  around; 

He  sheds  his  warm  and  golden  light 
O'er  Nature's  works  profound. 

He  looks  on  earth  and  sea  and  air, 
He  smiles  on  sparkling  streams, 

And  all  o'er  the  prospect  fair, 
With  his  sweet  morning  beams. 

The  leaf  is  stirred  by  welcome  bree/e, 
Shows  forth  its  ruddy  face; 

A  silence  'mong  the  forest  trees, 
The  giants  of  their  race. 

The  dew  is  in  the  flow'ret's  cup, 

A  lovely  sparkling  gem, 
With  rosy  lips  it  drinks  it  up, 

And  wears  the  diadem. 

The  fields  are  white  with  harvest  now, 
With  heavy  burdens  bend; 

Follows  the  sickle,  where  the  plow 
Apart  the  turf  did  rend. 

All  Nature's  scenes,  of  beauty  rare, 

A  rich  repast  afford ; 
All  these  partake  of  life  a  share, 

Are  all  with  plenty  stor'd.  ' 

183 


'Tis  Sabbath  morn,  the  day  of  rest, 

O,  haste  to  pay  the  vow; 
We  soothe  our  fears,  we  cairn  our  breast, 

To  God  we  only  bow. 

September,  1842. 


dan  We  Jfonjet  tbe  flDen  of 


Can  we  forget  the  men  of  oldy 

Who  raised  the  battle-cry- 
Who  with  prophetic  eye^  foretold* 

Triumph  of  liberty? 

All  fearless;  strong,  and  brave  they  stood^ 

Those  souls  heroic,  grand; 
They  labor'd  for  their  country's  good, 

To  save  a  guilty  land./ 

They  saw  our  glorious  Hag  unfurled, 

Our  starry  banner  wave/ 
A  mockery  to  a  gazing  world,— 

4 

O'er  master  and  his  slave.. 


184 


Gbe  3o\>s  of  lEartb. 

The  joys  of  earth,  what  are  they 
But  fading,  fleeting  pleasures? 

From  our  grasp  they  steal  away, 
These  dying,  earthly  treasures. 

O,  if  to-day  they  give  us 
Of  pleasure,  high  emotions, 

'Tis  but  that  soon  they'll  leave  us, 
And  burst  our  bubble  notions. 

If  these  pleasures  we  enjoy 
For  awhile  without  sorrow, 

Yet  will  something  us  annoy, 
And  make  us  trouble  borrow. 

O,  form  they  a  downy  pillow 
For  us  our  weary  head  to  lay, 

While  we  upon  the  billow 

Of  time  so  swiftly  pass  away? 

Know  ye  that  they,  like  flowers, 
Bloom  and  blossom  for  awhile, 

Like  the  winds  of  adverse  hours, 
Flood  with  tears  the  playful  smile. 

When  we  are  fann'd  by  breezes 

Of  fortune  and  of  favor, 
And  all  around  us  pleases, 

'Tis  then  we  easy  labor. 

185 


But  smiles  and  tears  together, 
Laugh  and  weep  and  do  appear, 

While  thus  life's  storms  we  weather; 
There's  naught  abiding  here. 

Naught  abiding  here  of  earth, 
Its  joys  are  fleeting  pleasures; 

But  there  are  some  of  nobler  birth, 
Enduring,  lasting  treasures. 

December,  1842. 


Hcrostic 

BEAUTY. 

Bright  garlands  of  flowers,  O   Beauty,  are  thine ; 
Eyes  glowing  with  light,  stars  brightly  that  shine, 
And  dewdrops  that  sparkle^  and  colors  that  glow. 
Unrival  for  splendor  the  bright-hued  rainbow; 
Ten  thousand  the  iorms,in  which  thou  dost  appear,- 
Youth,  Beauty  and  Love  thy  bright  images  wear. 


1 86 


©,  Xet  flDe  IRest. 

O,  let  me  rest  my  weary  feet, 
Bruised  and  torn  with  thorns  I  meet ; 
The  way  is  rough,  narrow  or  wide; 
O,  let  me  rest,  some  fount  beside- 

O,  let  me  rest  these  tired  hands, 
Toil-worn  oppress'd  with  life's  demands; 
Painful  and  sore  from  day  to  day, 
O,  while  a  pilgrim  here  I  stay.* 

O,  let  me  rest  my  burdened  heart, 
So  tired  and  weary  of  its  part; 
Yet  beating,  beating  ever  on, 
Until  the  fainting  breath  is  gonef 

O,  let  me  rest  these  longing  eyesy- 
Looking  for  heaven  beneath  the  skies; 
So  quick  another's  faults  to  see, 
While  yet  my  own  may  greater  be.t 

O,  let  me  rest  my  aching  head, 
When  time^and  sense,  and  life  are  fle4 
Upon  my  Savior's  loving  breast> 
O,  let  me  rest,  there  let  me  rest.? 

August  ii,  1894.    E.R.MORSE. 


187 


